The Voldemort Trilogy Book 1: Rebirth
by urcool91
Summary: Because he felt a hint of remorse during the last seconds of his life, Dumbledore decides to give him a second chance. But with a new Dark Lord rising, will Voldemort reborn be able to accept himself in time to stop the doom of the wizarding world? COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

_**Velcome to my new vulti-chavter vanviction! Vis is a vanviction about Vord Voldemort! Venjoy and veview!**_

Prologue

It is a generally accepted fact that people die, and that when people die they stay dead. This is the story of a man who didn't. It was a generally accepted fact that this man was evil. In fact, he went down in history for his evilness. But then again, in this story all generally accepted facts seem to fly out the window.

This is the story of the Dark Wizard that put Voldemort himself to shame, literally. This is a story about love, friendship, bravery, good, evil, and some good old-fashioned poetic justice. This is a story in which Dumbledore plays a small part, Voldemort plays a large part, and Fat Albert plays a tiny but very important part. This is a story about accepting the darkness inside yourself, then overcoming it.

More then anything else, this is a story about how one boy managed to make peace with himself, then find the strength to forgive another boy and help that boy back onto the right path.

This is the story of Albus Severus Potter. This is the story of Tom Riddle. This is the story of the rebirth of Lord Voldemort.

_**Sorry that was kinda short. The next chapter will be up as soon as possible, I promise.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Death and Life

_**Sorry this took me a little bit! It involved changing it from first-person to third-person, which was a little tricky. Anyways, here's **__**Death and Life**__**.**_

Death and Life

Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort circled each other, exchanging barbs, waiting for the other to attack first. In each was the eagerness to kill the other, to finish what had begun that Halloween night so many years ago, but in Voldemort's gut was a worm of doubt. How many times now had he tried to kill the boy and failed? More than three, he knew that, and three was usually as far as anyone got. Except for the exceptions, Potter and Dumbledore. Maybe a few of their friends too. Annoying.

"Before you try to kill me," Potter said, "I'd advise you to think about what you've done... Think and try for some remorse, Riddle." Voldemort's eyes widened. Potter had used that hated name, he had taunted me, asking _me_ for _my_ remorse.

"What is this?" Voldemort hissed, trying not to feel shocked or angry, to stay in control. But even as he clamped down on those emotions he still felt something. It hurt, a dull and aching hurt, but he barely felt the pain for what it was. It was the very idea that there was something unknown to him that was most annoying. Annoying and... frightening.

"It's your last chance," said Potter, "it's all you've got left... I've seen what you'll be otherwise... Be a man... try... Try for some remorse."

"You dare-?" Voldemort whispered. The pain was greater now, red-hot in his very guts. His eyes were blurring, his hands shaking. The pain intensed and dulled. Some of Potter's words, detached and echoing, broke through to Voldemort. _Dumbledore... Snape... undefeated... wand... Draco... this... I... master... elder wand. _Potter looked far away now, as if he saw him through a very long tunnel.

"He must be doing this," Voldemort realized, "Some spell or curse, whatever it is." Then Voldemort became angry. The anger was good, familiar, safe. He used the anger, and suddenly he felt none of the pain. His way forward was clear, to kill Harry Potter. Kill Harry Potter, and everything he had ever wanted, ever strived for, would become reality. Now that he had the elder wand, it would be easy.

"Avada Kedavra!" he yelled, a millisecond later Potter shouted the disarming charm. As if that would save him now. The spells collided in a flash of gold, and Voldemort saw the green light rushing at him. Then it was all gone.

All was pain. Pain and darkness. There was a surface beneath him, and the pain of his raw nerve endings on it was excruciating. But if he moved it was worse. It was better to stay as he was.

It was like this for a long time. He tried to remember his name, but the memories he knew were there wouldn't come. Perhaps he had always been like this. He entertained the notion, then discarded it. There must have been a time before. He could barely survive as it was, could barely stop the pain from burning away the very light of his existence. He couldn't have been like this forever.

Slowly a word came to him. The word, he thought, was important. The word was "Potter". Was that his name? He thought this over as the pain gnawed at him. No, he decided, this word, this Potter, didn't feel like his name. But then what did it mean?

He felt as if he was at the prepuce of unlocking the memories that eluded him. That was exciting. But the excitement led to even greater pain. Then the answer came to him. It came, slowly at first, but as soon as it came all the other memories came too, cascading over him like a fountain. Only now was he aware of what had happened.

He was Lord Voldemort. He had another name, but the one he chose was his true one. He had to kill Harry Potter. But Potter had killed him.

[No] said a voice. Voldemort jumped, making the pain even worse. He began to open his mouth to speak, but the muscles were pain. All was pain. Was that all he was, pain?

[No] the voice said again. Voldemort knew he had heard the voice before, but he couldn't place it. Even to think was pain.

[I warned you] the voice said sadly [I tried to warn you] Only then did Voldemort place the voice.

"Grindelwald," he muttered, ignoring the pain that came with the muttering.

[Correct] Voldemort began to grow angry, but with the anger came more pain. [I tried to warn you, to keep you from the Elder Wand] Well, he had failed. [Not in the end] Thinking hurt so much, but Voldemort didn't want to stop. He wanted life. [You may have a chance at that]

"What?" Voldemort said, ignoring the burst of pain that followed. [It is not my place to tell] He tried to think again, but the presence of Grindelwald was gone. Voldemort was lonely and filled with more pain than he could possibly imagine. For another eternity he waited.

Then he saw something besides the darkness. A tiny pinprick of light, no larger than a mote of dust. But even as Voldemort watched the light grew larger. Not light, he realized, A man of light, trailing light behind him like a long shadow. He watched the man hungrily as he came, closer and closer, brighter and brighter, until he stood over Voldemort, a giant. The man of light was Albus Dumbledore.

"Tom," he said, and he sounded so weary and old and loving that Voldemort couldn't take it. Light hurt . Love hurt. Voldemort tried to snarl in protest, but halfway through it turned to a pitiful whine as his pain increased.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Dumbledore said, "Here..." Then he touched Voldemort with one of his softly glowing hands, and the former Dark Lord's pain immediately eased. He groaned with pleasure.

"What do you want?" he rasped, "To gloat? Looks like you've come to the right place."

"Tom-" Dumbledore started, but Voldemort cut him off.

"Look at me!" he said, "I'm broken and raw and, until you came, in absolute pain. You were dead for a year before I came here. Why didn't you warn me death would be like this? So that you could sit and laugh for all eternity? That's just like you, Dumbledore. Well let me tell you something. I will curse you for every moment of my eternal torture, praying for you to feel for one millisecond what I feel-"

"QUIET!" Dumbledore roared. Voldemort cowered in fear. Then, as quickly as he had become angry his fury faded, and Dumbledore was left looking older than ever.

"Tom," he said, "I am not hear to sit and laugh for all eternity. As for not warning you, I warned you plenty of times. Even Harry asked you to show some remorse, and believe me when I say he didn't want to. I've pulled quite a few strings and broken an insane amount of rules to try and help you, Tom, so I wouldn't say I didn't warn you."

"So that's it?" Voldemort said. "I didn't take the hint, so I'm condemned to a life- er, I mean _death, of suffering?" Dumbledore smiled._

"_Oh, I wouldn't bet on that," he said, "Tom, in your last seconds of life, didn't you feel something, an emotion, that you had never felt before?"_

"_Ye-es..."_

"_That was remorse." Dumbledore said, looking very pleased with himself. Voldemort wasn't quite so enthusiastic. _

"_Wha... How..." he stammered. Dumbledore was still smiling; Voldemort thought it was a bit smug._

"_Yes, well, I was a bit surprised myself when I first heard. Harry was a last ditch attempt, after all. But," Dumbledore paused, "I managed to get the Council of Light to agree to my idea."_

"_Council of Light?" Voldemort said weakly. "Idea?" _

"_Oh, yes, the Council of Light: Merlin, Gandalf, Gryffindor. You know. Getting them to agree was what took me so long, in case you were wondering. I am very sorry about that. It was Obi-Wan who managed to break the tie vote."_

"_And your idea?"_

"_I'll simply reincarnate you as one of Harry's children." said Dumbledore._

"_Oh." Voldemort said. He obviously couldn't say "MERLIN'S BOXERS ARE YOU CRAZY!" like he wanted to. Dumbledore obviously thought he was brilliant. _

"_Of course," Dumbledore said, "I have a few wrinkles to iron out. Fat Albert would only vote in favor if I erased your memories. That would, of course, defeat the point of you being reincarnated. And there's the small possibility you might be a girl. But it's only very slight-"_

"_WHAT?" Voldemort screamed._

"_No time to explain now, Tom, we're on a very tight schedule. Severus is getting a new life too, so don't worry to much. Have fun!" With that Dumbledore disappeared just as Voldemort lost all sense of himself... _


	3. Chapter 3: Albus

_**Yay! The newest chapter introducing... Albus Potter! R&R!**_

A black-haired, brown-eyed boy crouched on the dry grass in the park near his house, a small piece of bread in his outstretched hand. He didn't move, he barely even breathed as a squirrel inched cautiously up to him. The boy had long ago gotten the birds eating out of his hands; squirrels were a new challenge, as they had learned early on to fear the large two-legged beings who came to the park and sometimes threw stones at them for no apparent reason whatsoever. And so the squirrels sought solitude. The boy offering them the bread also sought solitude, but for a different reason entirely.

To a rather ignorant observer he was just an average eleven-year-old boy, with an older brother, a younger sister, an overprotective mother, and a father who knew him extremely well. To a wizard observer who knew of the events of the last wizarding war, he was the second son of perhaps the two most famous people ever, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter. the second observer was the crux of his problem, because, thou he had famous parents, Albus Severus Potter was almost maddeningly average. Slightly shy and very empathetic, with an insatiable curiosity for strange creatures both Muggle and magical, he was off-balance around people but strangely at ease among animals.

It was, he thought as the squirrel began to eat, weird that he was so awkward around others. He understood them perfectly well, but maybe that was why they were so difficult. People, he had found, didn't like to have all their little charades seen through. So very unlike animals, who never felt the need to hide anything.

Albus sighed and stood up, stretching slightly to get rid of the stiffness from crouching down to long. A quick glance at his watch told him that he had overspent his time by a good half-hour. Timeliness was just one of the annoying qualities of people that Albus understood but could never imitate. Albus sighed again and slowly began to walk back toward Number 12 Grimmald Place. The dry and prickly grass turned to pavement, which turned to concrete as he went up the steps and opened the door to the large front hall that, when they were younger, he and his siblings used to slide around in their sock feet after Kreacher had just waxed the floors. This had resulted in more than a few crashes, which would make Mrs. Black's portrait scream, which eventually caused his dad to get fed up with the thing and put a hex on it that made Mrs. Black puke slugs every time she opened her mouth. Uncle Ron found that extremely funny.

"Mom! Dad! I'm home!" Albus called out, ignoring the portrait as the curtains covering it flew open and Mrs. Black glared at him. Puzzled by the lack of answer, Albus shouted, "Hey, Kreacher!" The ancient do we house-elf appeared in front of him with a crack.

"Master called?" Kreacher croaked.

"Yeah Kreacher," Albus said, "Do you know where Mom and Dad are?" Kreacher furrowed his brow.

"Mistress left for Diagon Ally with the young Master and Mistress. Master was called away by the ministry. He told Kreacher to tell Master Albus that he would be back soon. Meanwhile, would Master like something to eat?" Albus smiled slightly even as a worm of fear coiled in his stomach when Kreacher told him how his father got called away. Preparing food was Kreacher's way of keeping both their minds off the potentially dangerous job his Dad had to do.

"Sure Kreacher," Albus said, "What do we have?"

"Well, Master could have some wild rice soup, or perhaps some sausages-"

"Sausages!" Albus cheered with a gusto he did not feel. Kreacher studied him for a moment, then gave a curt nod.

"Kreacher will make the sausages," he said, then bustled out of the room, though Albus knew that Kreacher hadn't believed that he had really been distracted. But now that Kreacher was gone, Albus had to find something to do. A copy of the _Daily Prophet_ caught his eye. Albus picked up the paper, and was immediately drawn to the headline.

Former Death Eaters Escape Azkaban

The first escapes since the infamous mass breakout at the dawn of the Second Wizarding War,

two convicted Death Eaters, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, escaped from Azkaban early Sunday

morning, leaving several dead guards in their wake. Officials are unsure of the cause of the breakout,

but the Auror office assures that it is and insolated incident and the escaped will soon be rounded up

Wizgomont began the movement to return the Dementors as guards of Azkaban, but the action was

shot down by Harry Potter, Head of the Auror office. Many, including his brother-in-law...

_Continued page 5_

_Albus smiled even as he silently hated the whole article. The "brother-in-law" was undoubtedly Uncle Percy, but if they quoted him it would be hopelessly out of context. Albus threw the paper to the floor in disgust just as two things happened at once. Kreacher returned with the sausages and his father Apperated into the middle of the kitchen._


	4. Chapter 4: Harry Potter

_**And now for my latest chapter! I almost didn't type this in tonight, PLEASE review. It is all that keeps me from giving up on this darned thing.**_

"Albus!" Albus's father said as Kreacher ran out of the room muttering something about needing more sausages. "I didn't expect you back until later."

"What?" Albus said confusedly, still trying to process all the things that had happened at once.

"I thought you'd stay at the park longer," his father explained, "I'd hoped to slip in and out without anyone noticing, except for Kreacher of course."

"Oh," Albus said, "Well, I was already late, and I didn't know Mum was going out." Then he added, a little to casually, "Dad, by the way, what did you get called out for?" His father rolled his eyes.

"Nothing major," he said, "Just the ever-present element of politics. Almost every candidate for Minister wants my support. You know how it goes."

"Is Uncle Percy running?" Albus asked, his shoulders visibly relaxing when he heard that his father hadn't been called out for something more serious, the Death Eaters, for instance.

"No, even he realizes that he'll never get enough support," Albus's father said. Just then his gaze came to rest on the _Prophet_ Albus had so carelessly thrown aside. Instantly his gaze hardened. "Albus, have you been reading that thing again?" Albus cringed.

"Yeah," he said warily. His father's face hardened further, if that was even possible.

"I'm always telling people not to leave these around," he muttered, "It's not like there's anything worthwhile in there anyways." Albus's father bent down, picked up the paper, and threw it into the fire. There was a long, awkward pause. Finally, Albus broke the silence.

"Why don't you want me reading the paper, Dad?" he asked. His father turned toward him.

"Most of the stuff in there is lies," he said, "The rest isn't the kind of thing I want my son to be reading."

"Well, I want to know what's going on out there."

"I've told you before, there's nothing going on out there, much less anything that would harm you."

"Oh yeah?" Albus said, suddenly angry, "What about those escaped Death Eaters?" His father's face turned white.

"That," he said shortly, "is none of your business."

"It is to my business!" shouted Albus. "Dad, you can't keep pretending that all the stuff that happens doesn't happen, and you can't pretend it doesn't affect us."

"And who is this 'us'?"

"You know." Albus gestured wildly with his hands. "You. Me. This whole family, for Merlin's sake! You come in from doing whatever you do out there, then you pretend everything's fine. And when I ask, you just blow it off and say it's nothing!"

"Albus-"

"Dad, I know what you do out there is dangerous. I can accept that. But I don't want to be shut out!"

"I'm only trying to protect you."

"I don't need you're protection!"

"Everything you know just puts you more at risk. Have you forgotten all the times people have attempted... stuff... on you and Lily and James?"

"So what? I'd like to know why those people were trying to _kill us!"_

"_You don't need to know, Albus."_

"_But I want to! You can't pretend we're normal; I've heard the stories about you just like any other wizard kid."_

"_Albus, this discussion is over." Albus's father said. Albus turned away._

"_Right," he muttered, "Just like last time." With that Albus stormed out of the room and Harry Potter sat down, rubbing his eyes. _


	5. Chapter 5: King's Cross

_***Braces against the inevitable hate from all you guys* Yes, yes I know. It's been two weeks. I'm really sorry, I was just swamped by homework and finals. I don't own any of the dialog in this chapter, or any of the characters, or anything in the Harry Potter universe. I hope you like this chapter, R&R.**_

A week later Albus, pushing his trolley and owl, strained to see over the heads of Muggle pedestrians. It was so unfair, he thought, that he was so short. He was always the last to see things of any importance. At the moment he was searching for a sign of the barrier that his brother James had already spotted, the barrier that led to platform nine and three-quarters. Albus saw it, broke into a small smile despite the butterflies in his stomach, and began to trot after his older brother. James, though, slowed down.

"I'll bet you'll be in Slytherin," he whispered so that their father and mum wouldn't hear. Albus felt his face flush.

"I _won't_!" he yelled. "I _won't_ be in Slytherin!" Albus's mum jogged to reach them.

"James, give it a rest," she said wearily.

"I only said he _might _be," said James, a broad grin on his face. "There's nothing wrong with that. He _might_ be in Slyth-" A glare from their mum cut James off. With a small shrug and a cocky look over his shoulder, James ran straight through the iron barrier and disappeared.

"You'll write to me, won't you?" Albus asked his parents, glad for a moment away from his brother.

"Every day, if you want us to," his mum said.

"Not every day," Albus said quickly. "James says mast people only get letters from home about once a month." And the last thing he needed was to look kiddish in front of his new classmates...

"We wrote to James three times a week last year," his mum said soothingly.

"And you don't want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts," Albus's father put in. "He likes a laugh, your brother." Albus had to agree with that, especially when James' favorite "laugh" was at his discomfort. The four of them, including Albus's sister Lily, pushed the trolley toward the barrier, steadily gathering speed. Albus gulped. He had never enjoyed getting onto the platform. He winced as they went through the solid-looking barrier, but instead of a collision he and his family found themselves on the platform, which was enshrouded by the white steam from the Hogwarts Express. James was nowhere in sight.

"Where are they?" Albus said, craning his neck and again cursing his height.

"We'll find them," said his mum, but his father didn't look so sure, especially when they heard Uncle Percy monotoning about broomstick regulations, though that could have been because his father didn't want to get into any Ministry politics.

"I think that's them, Al," Albus's mum said, oblivious to the fact that Albus parsed his lips at the childish nickname. As the Potters watched four people emerged from the steam.

"Hi," said Albus, embarrassing relief in his voice. Rose Weasley, already dressed in her school robes, smiled at him. Albus's father and Uncle Ron began to banter; Albus tuned them out. Lily and Rose's younger brother Hugo appeared out of the steam, talking animatedly about which House they would be Sorted into when they finally got to Hogwarts. Albus could remember having many such conversations with his friend Frank Longbottom, but now that he was actually going to Hogwarts anything of that sort would be much more solemn.

"If you're not in Gryffindor we'll disinherit you," said Uncle Ron, "but no pressure."

"_Ron!" _Albus's mum and Aunt Hermione said even as Albus's stomach twisted into even more knots. Albus brushed off all attempts to consol him and stared openly at the busted around him. Then the smoke shifted, revealing a small, pale boy with blond hair and steel-grey eyes. Albus thought that the boy looked as though he was seeing all your fears and trying to figure out the best way to exploit them.

"So that's little Scorpius," Uncle Ron muttered. The boy called Scorpius caught sight of Albus and gave him a look that, for a moment, made Albus's heart stop cold. Then Scorpius turned away, as though Albus was a bug he had decided to not squash, not yet. Albus's heart had barely started up again when James ran up to him with what was apparently very important news.

"Teddy's back there," James gasped, "Just seen him! And guess what he's doing? Snogging Victoire!" Albus rolled his eyes as the others exchanged a few more comments on the subject, until Albus's father looked at his watch.

"It's nearly eleven, you'd better get on board," he said.

"Don't forget to give Neville our love!" Albus's mum told James as she hugged him.

"Mum!" James said, "I can't give a professor love!"

"But you _know _Neville-"

"Outside, yeah," James said, rolling his eyes, "but at school he's Professor Longbottom, isn't he? I can't walk into Herbology and give him _love_..." James shook his head and aimed a kick at Albus.

"See you later, Al," he said. "Watch out for thestrals."

"I thought they were invisible. _You said they were invisible!_" Albus blushed when he saw that both his brother and father were laughing. James made his last goodbyes, then jumped onto the train. Albus's father, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth, turned toward the embarrassed first year.

"Thestrals are nothing to worry about," he told his son, "They're gentle things, there's nothing scary about them. Anyway, you won't be going up to school in the carriages, you'll be going in the boats." But Albus was still far from his usual self. He allowed his mum to kiss him numbly, frantic thoughts chasing themselves through his mind.

"What if I'm in Slytherin?" Albus whispered to his father. The elder Potter crouched until his face was level with that of his son's.

"Albus Severus," Albus's father said, "You were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."

"But just say-"

"-then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won't it? It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if it matters to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."

"Really?"

"It did for me." Albus's eyes widened with amazement and awe. He wasn't just going to be a helpless pawn in the Sorting Hat's game. _He could choose_. Albus opened his mouth to say something, but the doors along the scarlet train were closing, and he had barely enough time to hop into a carriage before that door, too, had shut. The train began to move, and Albus saw his father walking, then running, alongside it, smiling and waving just like any other parent.

Albus tore his eyes from his father and brought his head inside the train. He was about to begin his days at Hogwarts, and he wasn't going to do it in the shelter of his father.

_**So how do you like it? I seriously need reviews to keep going!**_


	6. Chapter 6: Interlude I

_**I kept checking my email, and you know what I saw? No reviews. None whatsoever. I'm not going to update again until I get at least 5 reviews. And unfortunately this is an interlude, and is very very short. Ha ha!**_

"The boy is too good."

"Since when have you been such a pessimist?"

"Since it became apparent that this crazy plan of yours won't work, Albus."

"Why, Gellert, I'm hurt. Everything is going exactly as planned. What we

are seeing is the true soul of Tom Riddle, what he might have been."

"That's exactly the problem. This is him as he might have been, but what

will happen when he receives his memories."

"I am hoping his current goodness will win over the pull of evil."

"You have forgotten that the memories are a part of him, as is the evil. If

he was to deny either of them, that would be worse than fifty Voldemorts."

"And why is that?"

"Because then he would cease to be Tom Riddle."

_**Told you it was short! Review or I won't update again! **_


	7. Chapter 7: Songs and Sorting

_**Okay, so I wasn't serious about the 5 reviews thing. Sorry I was so mad last update. But now is when the story starts to get interesting...**_

Nothing particularly interesting happened to Albus on the train ride to Hogwarts, unless you counted him and Frank Longbottom opening every package of Chocolate Frogs and setting the frogs loose in the prefect's carriage. Their journey had over all been enjoyable enough, but now, as the scarlet train pulled into the Hogsmead station, Albus, Frank, and Rose were silent, each drowning in a deep pool of his or her own fears and nervousness, but Albus, at least, was heartened by the sight of the familiar figure that strode up to them.

"Firs' years!" the gamekeeper Hagrid called out. "Firs' year o're here!"

"Hi Hagrid!" Albus said, smiling broadly at his friend as the three friends joined the trickle of first years following Hagrid as he led them to the waiting boats.

"No more 'en four to a boat!" Hagrid bellowed as he took a whole boat to himself. Albus, Frank, and Rose got into another one and were about to cast off when another student ambled awkwardly into their boat. Albus looked up from the floor and gave a small start. It was the boy from platform nine and three-quarters.

"Hello, I'm Rose Weasley. What's your name?" said Rose, as unfailingly polite as always.

"Scorpius Malfoy," the boy said coldly. "And who are your friends here?"

"I'm Albus Potter," Albus said, "and this is Frank Longbottom." Scorpius eyed Frank with distaste.

"So you're Professor Longbutt's son," he said. "I heard from _my _dad that he was an incredible dunce in school. I guess lack of brain cells must run in your family." Even in the dim light Albus could see the flush that rose to his friend's pale cheeks, which always contrasted greatly with Frank's greasy hair. Anger began to burn in Albus's heart.

"It doesn't," Frank said quietly, obviously trying to control his own rage.

"Huh, and you talk like a caveman, too," Scorpius sneered. Albus couldn't just sit by anymore, so he turned toward Frank.

"Man, it sure is lucky we got a boat for just the three of us," he said, a bit louder than necessary. Rose fidgeted and looked uncomfortable, but a slow smile was dawning on Frank's face.

"Yeah," said Frank, "It is very lucky we don't have to share this boat with some pureblood scum."

"In fact," said Albus, "if a fourth person was on this boat, I would tell them to jump off the Astronomy Tower."

"Especially if their initials were S.M." The two of them would have continued with the routine had Hagrid not interrupted.

"All righ'!" Hagrid bellowed. "You'll be getting yer firs' view o' Hogwarts righ' about... NOW!" As soon as Hagrid shouted "NOW" the boats made a sharp turn and emerged into a lake where they silently drifted in the shadow of the towering, many-tired castle of Hogwarts. Everyone oohed and ahhed, everyone, that is, except for Scorpius Malfoy.

"Our manor's better than this dump," he muttered, but Albus could hear a hint of awe in Malfoy's voice that told him, whatever the blond boy may say on the contrary, even Malfoy was impressed.

Less than ten minutes later the boats bumped against the shore and Hagrid shepherded the first years out and into a room. Then he went off, presumably to fetch one of the teachers. To Albus every minute felt like an hour, and the more time that past the more nervous Albus became. Twice he checked to see whether his watch was still working. Finally the door to the room creaked open and a tiny wizard stepped inside.

"Greetings to all!" he said is a slightly squeaky voice that made Albus pray the wizard didn't teach a lecture class. "My name is Professor Flitwick, and on behalf of all the staff and students here I welcome you to Hogwarts. In a few moments you will go to be Sorted into one of the four Houses of Hogwarts; Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw are their names. Your House will be something a family to you at Hogwarts, and I am sure you will make yourself a credit to whatever House you are put in. Now, the rest of the school is waiting, so I suggest that we go to the Great Hall!" The professor led the first years, many of whom looked rather sick, out of the small room they had been in and into the most magnificent room Albus had ever seen. The space was so vast that the word room didn't do it justice. Thousands of candles floated above the four long tables, and the dome above them must have been enchanted to look like the sky outside.

"Bloody hell," Rose whispered, and Albus nodded in agreement. No number of stories could correctly capture the sheer impressiveness of the Great Hall.

The incoming first years, after their initial shock had worn off some, shuffled after Professor Flitwick down the middle isle to the front of the hall, where the stool stood. Upon the stool was a tattered old hat that Albus knew was the Sorting Hat. From the Gryffindor table, James caught his brother's eye, grinned, and mouthed Slytherin. Albus stuck out his tongue at James. Then Flitwick clapped his hands and immediately the rest of the school, who had been holding whispered conversations for quite some time, fell silent. As Albus watched, a large rip near the brim of the hat opened and it sang:

"To your eyes I am but a hat

And one that is dirty and musty,

But I assure you, despite my looks,

I am really quite trusty.

From Gryffindor, the brave and bold,

To Slytherin, the sneaky.

From Ravenclaw, of books and brains,

To Hufflepuff, the freaky.

Of these four houses there is one

That I will put you in.

Don't be afraid, I've never been wrong.

That would be a sin.

But be forewarned, for this year

Two will stand alone.

Ashes to fire, death to life,

The choice is not my own.

Their destinies were preordained;

On them lies the fate of all.

They will fight for the title of Darkest Lord,

And the House divided will fall!"

For a moment there was silence, then the school tentatively began to clap. This time it was Albus who caught James's eye, an eyebrow raised in question. James shrugged, as mystified as Albus about the Sorting Hat's strange song. As the applause died down Professor Flitwick again stepped forward.

"When I call out your name," he said, "come up and try on the hat. Avery, David!" a caramel-haired boy even shorter than Albus weakly walked forward and sat on the stool, placing the hat on his head. After a few moments the Sorting Hat shouted "Ravenclaw!" Avery went toward the others of his House, who were clapping and cheering loudly.

The next minutes passed in a blur. Albus barely noticed the line growing shorter and shorter. All he felt was that one cursed word, as if by every beat of his heart it was permeating his being, stamping his soul with a fiery brand. _Slytherin, Slytherin._ Frank was Sorted into Gryffindor; Albus managed a small smile at his friend. _Slytherin, Slytherin._ Scorpius Malfoy went to Slytherin; no surprises there. _Slytherin, Slytherin. _Finally it was Albus's turn. He slowly walked up to the hat. The word was pulsing within him, he could almost hear voices whispering it into his ears. He sat on the three-legged stool and set the hat on his head. The Sorting Hat slipped over his eyes, and darkness fell. Out of the darkness came a small voice.

_Ah yes, the boy called Albus Potter,_ the voice said sorrowfully. Albus thought as hard as he could about not being in Slytherin. The voice gave a sad chuckle. _Harry said the same thing. Of course, I had more of a choice with him. _Albus furrowed his forehead in confusion. _Their destinies were preordained..._ the voice mused. _The choice is not my own. In your heart I can sense one House, but I can't put you there. The one House you are allowed in is..._

_**Wee! Dots! Sorry to Hufflepuff for calling them freaky. I just couldn't think of any good rhyme for sneaky. Well, goodbye for now! Review please! **_


	8. Chapter 8: Stranger in the House

_**Thank you for the reviews! Seriously, they are all that keep me going. R&R please!**_

"Slytherin!" The Sorting Hat's shout echoed around the Great Hall. To Albus it seemed as though the echoes were thousands of jeers, almost like the hall itself was a crow, pecking and tearing at Albus's already wounded and shell-shocked spirit. Numbly, Albus took the hat from his head. The House farthest left, Slytherin, Albus's _new House_, erupted into cheering. Not knowing what else to do, Albus walked toward the table, ignoring the looks his brother was shooting him. One of the Slytherins, a prefect's badge gleaming on his chest, rose from the table and shook Albus's hand.

"Congratulations," the prefect said, smiling. "I'm Douglas Adams. Welcome to Slytherin." Albus nodded, muttered something, and sat down on the wooden bench. Adams seemed to sense Albus's discomfort and said, "Come now, there's no need to be so down."

"I don't belong in Slytherin," Albus said.

"Now, now. None of us are half as bad as, well, You-Know-Who for instance. I reckon you'll come to fit right in here."

"What if I don't want to?" Albus said vehemently.

"Look, take this the right way now," said Adams, "but I reckon that you can either accept us here in this House, or you can be miserable."

"I'd rather be miserable."

"I guess that's your choice then," Adams said, shrugging. "If it means anything, I can understand how you're feeling. When I was first Sorted, I didn't want to be in Slytherin either. But now I'm a prefect. We're all chums here in Slytherin. I can only imagine what this must be like with _the_ Harry Potter for a dad."

"Dad has nothing to do with this."

"Sorry, mate, I just assumed, with someone like that to live up to-"

"Dad. Has. _Nothing_. To. Do. With. This."

"We aren't all Dark Wizards here, mate."

"Stop talking to me!"

"All right, but if you ever need someone to talk to-"

"I'm fine, alright? I just need some time."

"Hey, that's okay by me, kid," said Adams. Albus turned back toward the front of the Great Hall just in time to see Rose get sorted into Gryffindor. Adams muttered something about what a shame it was she wasn't in Slytherin, but Albus just gave a bitter smile and clapped politely. Rose, beaming, got up from the stool and, without so much as a glance at Albus, strode to take her place next to Frank and Nearly Headless Nick. Flitwick rolled up his parchment and, with a wave of his wand, levitated the stool and the hat upon it out of the Hall. He then took his seat at the staff table to the right of a severe-looking woman whose graying hair was pulled into a tight bun. As Albus watched the woman rose and the four tables fell silent.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," she said. "For those who do not know me, I am Professor McGonagall, the Headmistress of this school. I know you are all hungry, but first I would like a moment of silence in remembrance off all those who died in the Battle of Hogwarts." The woman paused and bowed her head. Albus thought he could see tears glinting in her eyes, but when she looked up again her eyes were dry. "Now," she said, "in the words of another Head: Tuck in!" Instantly large platters of food appeared on the tables. Albus's stomach rumbled hungrily.

"I suggest that you take her advice," Douglas Adams said to Albus, smiling a little at the noise of the latter's stomach. Albus proceeded to pile his plate with the abundance. To his left he saw that even Scorpius Malfoy was taking their Headmistress's words to heart. For a while the only sounds were those of soft chewing and the clatter of silverware against the students' plates, but as time wore on more and more conversations were started, and some made their way to Albus's unguarded ears.

"Weren't you so surprised at some of the Sortings?"

"You mean the Weasly girl? I was sure she'd be a Ravenclaw!"

"I don't mean her, I mean the Potter."

"Harry Potter's son? I hardly believed it when the hat shouted 'Slytherin'."

"I know! With a father like that, he seemed a sure bet for Gryffindor."

"What a shame!"

"What a waste of good talent!"

Suddenly and horribly angry, Albus leaned foreword a and stabbed a kipper violently. It wasn't fair, he thought. He'd have rather been in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or even Hufflepuff. Anything was better than _Slytherin_. Albus barely noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks. It was like his father had said: the ever-present of politics. Even at Hogwarts Albus couldn't get away from the _famous_ Harry Potter.

"Hey," Adams said, "are you okay?" That, if anything, made Albus cry more. His classmates didn't care about him at all, he decided. All they cared about was the son of Harry Potter. Albus wished he had anyone, _anyone_ else for a father. This outpour of bitter thoughts was brought to a halt when McGonagall again stood up and the food disappeared.

"Now that we've all eaten our fill, there are a few start-of-term announcements," she said. "I would ask our first-years to be aware that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden to all students, including certain fourth-years." This was accompanied by a rather severe look at James, who grinned sheepishly. "Mr. Filch would also like me to announce that an extensive list of items are banned, and that a full list will be handed out tomorrow. Now, I am sure you are all very tired, so the prefects of your respective House will lead you to your common room. Goodnight." There was a great burst of applause, then barely controlled chaos as students shook and jostled each other. trying to find a prefect of their House. Albus, for his part, simply stuck close to Adams and tried to remain as unnoticed as possible.

"Al! Hey, Al!" Albus half turned, then stopped. The voice of James was unmistakable, and Albus was in no mood for his brothers ribbing. Luckily for him Adams had finally gotten everyone rounded up, and the House began to move toward their common room. James was quickly swallowed by the mass of students exiting the Great Hall.

Albus barely paid attention to where the Slytherins were going. He didn't bother to try to remember the password (Worm Guts), nor did he really register that the Slytherin common room was just about the least welcoming place he'd ever been in, possibly excluding some of the darker room at his home. All Albus wanted to do was go to sleep, so that maybe, when he woke up, he would find that the whole day had just been a dream brought on by James stretching his nerves.

So convinced was Albus of this that he didn't even spare a look at the skull adorned bed. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was that leather sheets and blankets were really very uncomfortable.

_**Well, that's that. Sorry that this wasn't a very exciting chapter. I'll make it up next time, when Albus has a very odd dream... Review! **_


	9. Chapter 9: The Dream of Awakening

_**Yay! Albus's weird dream! R&R!**_

Around Albus voices were murmuring. The sound seemed to tickle Albus's ears, and he wished that the murmur-ers would stop. His bed was surprisingly comfortable for having sheets and blankets made of leather.

"Albus, wake up," said a voice, gentle but insistent. "I have someone you need to meet."

"Go away," Albus muttered, swatting in the general direction of the voice. Strange, there was something rather familiar about that voice, but Albus was almost certain he has never heard it before then.

"Yeah, get up, Alby," said a different voice. This voice Albus recognized. It sounded a lot like his brother James.

"How did you get into our common room?" Albus said, his eyes still tightly shut.

"I'm not in your common room, Alby. Neither are you," the James-voice said. "If you bothered to open your eyes you would see that." Albus obeyed the James-voice and was met with the very strange sight of an old man with a long white beard and a boy older than him looking down at him. The old man wore a peaceful smile and the boy a smirk.

"Who are you?" Albus blurted out. The boy rolled his eyes in a very James-like manner, though it was obvious now that the boy wasn't Albus's brother.

"Isn't it obvious?" the boy said. "I am you, Alby. Or rather, you are me."

"So I'm seeing the future?" Albus asked. The boy rolled his eyes again.

"No, you're seeing the past," he said, which left Albus even more confused.

"Then how come you're older tan me?" he said. The boy opened his mouth to speak, but the old man stilled him with a look.

"He is older than you because he was you," the old man said. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, Tom."

"But I'm Albus, not Tom," Albus said.

"I know that is what you think," Dumbledore said, "and this process may be a bit disorientating at first. You are now going to get all your memories back."

"What memories?" Albus said.

"Yours," Dumbledore said simply. The other boy nodded.

"I'm those memories," he said, "and don't ask me how to give you your memories back. For all I know we have to sing some old Muggle song in an SUV driven by a hung-over Charlie Sheen." Now it was Dumbledore's turn to roll his eyes.

"Tom, you're just confusing him," Dumbledore said. "If you don't mind, let me do the talking."

"But what does he mean he's a memory?" Albus said.

"Your father'd be able to tell you," Tom said. "Of course, in his case, the memory turned out to be your horcrux."

"_My_ horcrux?"

"Yes, Alby, your horcrux. You made a ton of them, remember?"

"Of course he doesn't," Dumbledore cut in. "He doesn't have his memories back yet."

"But, if you're just memories, how come you're acting like an actual person?" Albus said. Tom turned toward him.

"You try leaving memories lying around for over eleven years and see how it turns out. In the end its our memories and experiences that create our personality. I had the memories of Voldy, so I guess I'm sort of another Voldemort."

"Wait, I'm going to get _Voldemort's _memories?"

"Yeah, haven't you heard? You're Tommy Riddle, Alby, the Lord o' Darkness himself."

"_Tom_," Dumbledore interrupted, "don't you think there could have been a, well, less blunt way of breaking it to him? After all, he's lived all his life as Albus Potter, and to just say that he's _Voldemort_-"

"Aw, shut up old man," Tom sneered. "I don't have the memories for empathy or sympathy or whatever the hell they call it. Albs here is lucky, at least he's had a life. Me, I'm just a ton of Voldy's old memoirs thrown together. I'm not anything, so I don't care 'bout Alby dearest's feelings." All through this speech Albus had been inching away from Tom, as though the physical distance could somehow make all the revelations untrue.

"N-no," Albus said shakily. Both Dumbledore and Tom turned toward Albus. "No," Albus said again, steadier this time. "This isn't true. I'm just having a strange dream from too much dessert at the feast. I'm not really Voldemort. That's just crazy."

"Crazy but true," Tom said. "Once you get your memories back and I cease to exist-"

"There are no memories!" Albus exclaimed, strangely happy now that he had established the fact.

"Well I'm offended," Tom muttered.

"You're both just figments of my imagination!"

"Then I'll be the most annoying figment ever!" Tom bellowed in anger. "I'll give you a choice, Albs, either accept me being your memories and frigging delete me, or be stuck with an annoying semi-stalkerish guy in your head for the rest of your existence."

"Hmm, I choose neither," Albus said, surprising himself at the hint of snark in his voice.

"Stop this, both of you," Dumbledore ordered, stepping between the boys. "We are on a very tight schedule. The fate of the wizarding world may rest on you two getting along, so I advise you to-"

"Aw, cut the sermon, old man," said Tom.

"Tom, I'm beginning to become very sick of your attitude," Dumbledore said sternly, provoking another eye roll from Tom. Albus almost giggled, but then he caught himself.

"But how can I be Voldemort?" Albus asked, trying to get the dream (if that was what it was) back on track.

"It was really quite simple," Dumbledore said, with a hint of annoyance that vaguely surprised Albus. "Before your death, in the last seconds of your life, you felt a hint of remorse. It wasn't much, but it was enough for me to convince the Council of Light to allow me to have you reborn as one of Harry's children."

"Dumbles here has the strangest sense of humor," drawled Tom.

"I prefer the term poetic justice," Dumbledore snapped. Tom shrugged.

"Call it what you like," he said, "but only a very sick person would find it funny to make me the son of my killer."

"Not the son of _your_ killer, Tom. You are memories taken form, nothing more."

"What's that to you?" Tom said, his previously mocking tone turned to ice. "You don't get it, do you? It feels real to me, 'cause I'm his memories. I am Voldemort, at least in my mind. Hammer that into your thick skull, Dumbly. I'm getting sick of you being all 'oh, you're not really Alby dearest, you're just his memories'." Albus's stomach twisted with empathy. I understand, he wanted to shout. I understand how you feel. You're not alone. But another part of Albus was repulsed by the thing, the bitter, sarcastic thing that stood in front of him, that claimed to _be _him. Voldemort was the hated killer of millions, Albus was the empathetic son of a political celebrity. In his mind there could be no two more different people.

"Well you know what, Dumbles? I don't give a crap about what you think. I ain't just some goddamned memories left behind to rot."

"Tom, why must we always have this argument?" Dumbledore asked, massaging his temples as if to stave off a headache. "I understand that the revelation that you aren't really Voldemort was startling-"

"Like hell it was startling. What you said was that I wasn't who I thought I was, who you _led me to believe I was_! Then you just plop the person I thought I was in front of me, and expect me to just play along with your damn game."

"Tom, it was necessary-"

" 'Eff off, Saint Dumbles. You don't care about me, or about Alby here or about any person."

"I have a plan, Tom-"

"You don't care about anything but your _damn _plan for Alby's _damn _redemption. You know, this would all be easier if you just didn't give me back to Albs."

"Tom, that would be dishonest-"

"Oh, like it wasn't dishonest to keep us in the dark for _eleven years_. Why didn't you just give them to Alby in the first place, and not had to deal with me?"

"I told you before, Fat Albert-"

"Fat Albert can go to hell. I know you're not above breaking rules when it suits you. Why would a goddamn promise to a member of the Council of Light be any different?"

"Tom, we are entering territory that should be left well alone-"

"Dodging the question in typical Dumbledore style. I wouldn't expect anything more. No straight answers for the memory boy, no matter how much you preach about _honesty_. Just the same old wait Tom, patience Tom, everything-will-be-explained-in-fucking-time Tom. I'm so damn sick of your damn-"

"What's going on?" Albus said, having only understood about a word of the argument. Tom started, then turned toward Albus with an almost embarrassed look on his face.

"Tom was rather unhappy about the fact that he didn't know he was just memories sooner. What he must understand is that I have a plan, and for that plan to work he had to believe that he was Tom Riddle Jr. for a while, at least until your eleventh birthday," Dumbledore explained. A sharp feeling twisted within Albus, and he found himself agreeing with Tom. Dumbledore seemed to see them as all pawns, with the dead Headmaster himself as the Chess-master.

"But what's the Council of Light?" Albus said.

"The Council of Light is made up of the greatest, most powerful wizards and witches ever. I'm not one of them, not yet at least. They make most decisions here in the afterlife. Getting you reborn involved stepping over quite a lot of red tape."

"Politics, its all politics," Albus said suddenly, feeling as though a piece of a puzzle had fallen into place, though what puzzle it was he did not know.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "Now, do you have any more questions before you begin melding with Tom?"

"Melding?" said Albus, confused and just a little bit apprehensive. Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, but for some reason that only made Albus less calm.

"Oh, yes. You and your memories-" Tom hissed and Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "Fine. You and _Tom_ will meld together until you are fused into one being."

"And how is this done?" Albus said, slowly backing away from Dumbledore.

"You have to open your mind and consciously allow the mem- oh, get over it Tom. As I was saying, you have to allow the _memories _to take hold inside you. Then I will perform a spell to mold you and your memories into a consistent being." Albus continued to back away.

"You know, I don't really like the idea of the melding," he said.

"Oh, it won't hurt. It may be disorientating at first, perhaps even a bit fear inducing. But I assure you its perfectly safe," said Dumbledore, still smiling that imperturbable smile.

"I don't know. Maybe I could do this melding thing some other time." Albus was alarmed to see a brief flash of anger ripple across Dumbledore's face.

"Albus, we are on a very tight schedule. I can't afford to have you hold it up with your nonsense," Dumbledore said sharply.

"Sorry," said Albus, "But I'm not Voldemort. You have the wrong first-year. So thanks, but no thanks." The old man's eyes hardened with undiluted rage.

"Mark my words, Albus Potter," Dumbledore whispered so softly that Albus had to strain to hear each word, "this is not the last you will hear of me and your memories. The price if we fail to meld you together is nothing less than the wizarding world as we know it."

_**Ooo! Scary Dumbledore! Did you like how I wrote Tom? Please review! **_


	10. Chapter 10: Interlude II

_**Yeah, yeah I know. Two chapters in a day. But this was is super short, so I just wanted it out of the way.**_

"I hate to say I told you so, but I did warn you this would happen."

"What? It went fine!"

"Fine? _Fine?_ Albus, you're behind schedule and you know it."

"The schedule is ridiculous. How was I to convince Voldemort to accept himself in one night?"

"Don't look at me, I wasn't there. You have only yourself to blame for this one."

"What about the memories?"

"Don't try to be clever with me. You could have easily found a way to make those memories less conscious."

"And what exactly should I have done?"

"Not done this at all."

"What else was I supposed to do? A new Dark Lord is on the rise, and to have done nothing-"

"Albus, we guide and nudge, we do not take action. The Council says-"

"The Council of Light is made of a bunch of dithering old fools."

"You're a fool for starting this. When the Council hears-"

"Don't tell them yet! I have a new plan..."

_**Interludes stink, but they're necessary. Review me! **_


	11. Chapter 11: Potter, Distracted

_**I almost didn't type out this chapter because I have no motivation, i.e. you guys didn't give me any reviews! I hope you like this chapter. Please please PLEASE review! **_

It was actually rather anticlimactic when Albus woke up and found that leather sheets weren't nearly as comfortable as in his strange dream. Because that was all it was, a very odd dream that Albus had thought up. It was really a shame that the previous day hadn't been a dream too, but you couldn't have everything in life. the new day made Albus much less irritable and, therefore, a little more accepting of his current predicament in Slytherin House.

Really, it was for the best that he was getting used to the idea for being in Slytherin, because it didn't look as though anything else would go right for him. The teachers all seemed to be a bit stricter that necessary on him (though that could have been because of James). he seemed to be getting homework in every class he stepped foot in, and there was the small matter of the voice in his head.

The voice had started in Potions, his first class of the day, when Professor Slughorn decided to ask the class some simple questions to see what they already knew. After a few questions, he had asked them a stumper.

"The unicorn hair and horn are two common potion ingredients," Professor Slughorn had said, "but there is a part of the unicorn you will never use except in the darkest and most evil of potions. What is that part?" The class looked at Slughorn blankly, as did Albus, but then he heard the voice.

_Blood, _something in him whispered, _Unicorn blood is almost never used, because if you drink it you are cursed. Tip, don't drink it. But, oops, you already have._

"Unicorn blood," Albus answered, not bothering to raise his hand.

"Correct, Mr. Potter," Slughorn said, sounding delighted, "though it would be wise to raise your hand in the future. Can you tell me why?"

"You'd be cursed," Albus said. Slughorn clapped his hands.

"You're right, Mr. Potter, absolutely right! Now, this one is harder. Who was the last wizard we know of to drink unicorn blood?"

"Lord Voldemort," said Albus. Everyone around him flinched or jumped. A few girls screamed. Slughorn looked very nervous.

_They never change, _the voice said, almost making Albus himself jump. _Too afraid to see the person behind the mysterious You-Know-Who. He, _you_, aren't absolute evil, like they want to believe. Absolute evil is at least as rare as absolute good, and we all know how rare that is..._

"Dumbledore," Albus whispered, pretty sure he was going crazy since he was talking to his own head.

_Yeah, even Saint Dumbles himself isn't perfect. Far from it, in fact. But its easier to have perfect good as your figurehead and absolute evil as your opposition. Rules out the possibility of the opposition being right. _The class continued around Albus, but he wasn't paying any attention whatsoever.

"Voldemort wasn't right," he said quietly.

_It depends on who you ask. He certainly thought he was right. A savior, not a villain. All he was doing was putting wizards firmly above those he blamed for all his problems._

"Muggles," Albus said.

_Think about it. His father, a Muggle, abandoned his mum, leaving her moneyless and pregnant. After she died as a direct result, he was left at a Muggle orphanage, where he was teased mercilessly for being "odd" and "different". He was six when he first accidentally used magic to fight back. He couldn't control it, no child can at that age. But he wasn't an ordinary wizard child, and when the teasing and, sometimes, physical beatings became unbearable, he honed his talent into a tool to preserve himself in that orphanage. Of course, there was nobody else who could do what he could, and he jumped at the chance to prove to himself that he was somehow different from the others who had made his early life a living hell._

"Sort of like an Anti-Dad," Albus said, thinking of how all his father wanted was for them to be a normal family.

_A bit, _the voice said amusedly. _Now, the visit from Dumbledore only served to confirm Voldemort's suspicions. And, even better, Dumbly told him that he was special, even for a wizard. Special, for Voldemort, was god because it would give him the edge he might need. He demonstrated this tendency throughout his life, this fixating on special talents, even accepting someone into his inner circle of Death Eaters based on whether they offered something new. Rather like a collector, in fact, and just as impersonal, as though his followers were Chocolate Frog Cards. Dumbles attributed this to an inability to love, but it was more that he had no desire of need to love. He had lived his first eleven years in peer-enforced insulation, by the time Dumbly came he had already hidden his longing for companionship, even from himself._

"That must have been hard for him," said Albus, his natural empathy winning over his hatred towards Voldemort.

_It was, but by his start at Hogwarts he had effectively thrown an iron curtain around his fear, his longing, his loneliness. All the deep wounds his soul had suffered were hidden, but hidden wounds are the slowest to heal, and Voldemort's stayed with him his whole life. Only at his most desperate moments would the veil briefly blow aside, revealing the true depths of the harsh emotions beneath. At these times would Harry Potter's scar burn._

"He couldn't stand the emotions, so he transferred them to someone who could better handle them," Albus realized.

_Likewise, when Potter felt an emotion he couldn't handle, usually intense anger or hatred, he would unconsciously siphon off the feelings to Voldemort, causing Voldemort's dark mark to burn. Sometimes the feelings of Harry would become so intense and painful that Voldemort would cut off their connection. But then each would be forced to confront his own feelings, and neither was ready for that. It was a delicate balance, you see. Voldemort couldn't stand joy or love; Harry could. Likewise, Harry couldn't deal with anger or hatred; Voldemort could. Complete opposites, yet bound tighter than any others, with soul and wand and blood. Now, with your rebirth, a fourth bond has been added, the bond of kinship._

"But I'm not Voldemort!"

_Search your feelings, Alby. You know it's true. Even now the forces of evil are gathering, and only a full and complete Tom Riddle can stop them._

"I like being Albus Potter just fine," Albus grumbled. "I don't buy into these lies."

_There's truth in my lies._

"Ha! You just said you lied."

_No, I said that what lies I tell have truth in them. I never said that I had lied._

"You're annoying," said Albus, "and kind of confusing."

_I do try, Albs. _Albus looked down and saw, to his surprise, that a decent potion was brewing in his cauldron. He hadn't been paying attention to the class or the potion, and had thrown in ingredients at random. Idly, Albus wondered if his supposed identity had anything to do with his accelerated potion-making skills.

_Phantom perceptions, _the voice in his head said. _The remains of the memories that were taken from you. It's impossible to fully wipe someone's mind, and so the perceptions are inevitable. Or you may be subconsciously tapping into your memories._

"So I get ridiculous skills in Potions because I'm accidentally tapping into an evil guy's memories?"

_Yes, though I advise you not to use opinion in your assessment of your predicament. What is "good" and "evil" varies from person to person._

"There still must be some absolute good, or what would be the point of anything?"

_And what would this absolute good be?_

"I don't know-"

_Suggest something._

"Maybe it's what everyone else says is good."

_I doubt it._

"Why?"

_Do you think slavery is good._

"Of course not!"

_Not long ago, the majority of people thought it was. Yet you say it isn't good._

"That's different. It was in the past."

_Exactly. The world's, or "everyone's", view of good and evil changes all the time. Besides, house elves work as slaves today._

"That's-"

_Different? _Albus flushed slightly. He counted Kreacher as one of his closest friends, and the thought of what he had been about to say had him questioning his own argument.

"Fine, you win this one," Albus said. "Um, who are you anyways?"

_I'm nobody, _said the voice. _Who are you?_

"Albus Potter," said Albus. "You're wrong about one thing."

_And what is that?_

"You're not nobody. You're Tom, no matter what others may think." With that Slughorn dismissed the class, and Albus left with the queer feeling of knowing all that had been taught though he had heard none of it.


	12. Chapter 12: Love,Hate,and Severus Snape

_**Yay! New chapter, in which we find out stuff in under dramatic ways. By the way, I've changed my penname to urcool91, so I am no longer Marowyn Granger. R&R! **_

The rest of Albus's first day went relatively undisturbed, with the voice in his head being at one moment sarcastic but good-natured (_Oh, gardening! I love gardening! Very useful skill in the real world._), then suddenly sarcastic and defensive. Albus found it an exhausting experience to try and hold a normal conversation with the voice making comments every few seconds. It was actually a relief to get back to the still uninviting Slytherin common room and begin with his mountain of homework, which was made much easier by the fact that the voice basically spoon-fed him the answers.

_After all, _Tom had said, _we wouldn't want pwecious Alby-walby getting a bwad gwade. _Albus ignored the voice and, after rolling his very sore wrist, continued to work on his Potions essay. It was, for once, a while before the voice spoke again.

_Albs, there's someone in the library who wants to talk with you. _Albus looked up, though there was naturally nobody there.

"How the Kedavera do you know that?" he said.

_The netherworld works in mysterious ways, Alby, my boy. Sometimes it's better not to ask._

"But I have to finish this-"

_Finish it later. This could be your big break. 'Sides, chances are that you'll do something embarrassing that I can rib you about for the rest of my existence. _

"Fine," Albus said. "Who is this guy, anyways?"

_If I told you, you wouldn't believe me._

"Try me," said Albus as he began to walk toward the library.

_Nah, I'd rather wait and see the look on your face. _Albus rolled his eyes and turned the corner into the library corridor. He pushed open one of the oak door and instantly the musty smell of old books enveloped him. For a moment just stood there, and suddenly he felt conflicting feelings of glee and remorse, feelings that were his, but not his own. Memories... memories of weekends spent in seclusion... searching... finding the instructions... his path to immortality... how to climb above the others... above... HIGHER. Albus shivered.

_The only way, _Tom whispered. _It was the only way._ Still shivering, Albus pushed the sensations aside.

"Where is he?" Albus asked, his voice shaking slightly.

_Patience, young grasshopper. He will come. Oh, here he is. _As the voice spoke, the friendly figure of Frank Longbottom raced toward Albus, a stack of books teetering in his arms and almost falling as the Gryffindor skidded to a halt. Laughing a little, Albus caught the stack. Frank peered around the books and grinned sheepishly.

"Hey Al," he said, "We need to talk." Frank set the books carefully on a table, and as he did Albus caught a few of the titles: _Advanced Defensive Magic, The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts, _and _Hogwarts, a History: New Definitive Edition _were among them.

"Studying for NEWTs already?" Albus said, only half joking.

"Not even I'm _that _studious," Frank said. "I'm just doing some research on the last Wizarding War."

"Why?" Albus said. Frank shrugged, not quite meeting Albus's eyes.

"Just looking," he said, pushing his overlong, greasy hair back from his face.

"Come on, Frank, you can tell me," Albus said.

"You'll just think I'm crazy. I don't need you to recommend a shrink."Albus raised an eyebrow.

"Bet you're not as crazy as I am," he said.

"What're you trying to do, lose a Knut? I won't take an unfair bet."

"Fine, be that way. I'll still be right."

"Impossible, under the circumstances."

"Prepare to be severely disappointed."

"Alright," said Frank, "what's so crazy about you?"

"According to dead Dumbledore and a voice in my head, I'm Voldemort," Albus said triumphantly. To his surprise Frank was unperturbed.

"Oh, that. I've known that for years," Frank said nonchalantly. Albus's mouth hung open.

"But how in the name of Merlin's pants could you possibly-"

"Easy," Frank said. "I learned it after I got my memories back."

"Wait, memories back?"

"Yeah," said Frank, turning his attention to a book. "Melding isn't the most pleasant experience, but its definitely worth it. Now I can skip past all the boring things, right on to the interesting stuff. No Wingardium Leviosa for me. I can start trying to solve the real problem."

"Frank, who are you?" Albus said, a bit confused.

"Severus Snape," Frank said. If Albus had been a Muggle cartoon character his eyes would have been bugging out and his jaw been on the floor.

"B-but you can't be!" Albus spluttered.

"I most certainly am," Frank said, looking very pleased with himself.

"No, that's impossible," said Albus. "I know you; you're not Severus-"

_You see, _Tom said_, Alby here's still in denial. Can't say I blame him._

"Tom, stop being such a sore sport," Frank said, frowning.

_Not my fault that Dumbles' a jerk-wad. _

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to be a jerk-wad back," said Frank.

"Wait, you can hear the voice in my head?" Albus said.

"Oh, yeah," said Frank. "Must have something to do with being reborn."

"But I thought I was the only one who could hear him," Albus said.

"Sorry to break it to you, mate," Frank said, "but Tom's a little loud."

"And annoying and sarcastic..."

_Hey, that's not nice!_

"Don't worry about him, Al," said Frank. "He's still a bit bitter that Dumbledore didn't tell him that he was just memories earlier."

_Hey, you'd be bitter too if the guy you sort of looked up to went and told you that you were just some idiot's memories left to rot in the afterlife, and you had to meld with him and lose all sense of self in the process._

"Yes, but there's no call for you to blame Albus for all of this," Frank said.

_You're right, _Tom said_, If anything, Albs should be angry at Dumbles too. After all, he hasn't had a flobberworm's worth of info on all this stuff. Dumbly actually expected him to just accept he was Voldy. _

"I'm not angry at Dumbledore," Albus said. "I'm just, I don't know, confused. Skeptical."

_Join the club, _muttered Tom_, I wouldn't be half as pissed if Dumbles hadn't just dropped this on me all of a sudden. It's like: Bam! you're just a memory collection, and now you got to meld with some kind and cease to exist. No warning, no sugar-coating, just saying he doesn't give a rat's ass about anybody._

"I understand," said Albus, "but I don't think Dumbledore felt he had a choice."

_There's no excuse for what he's done._

"You're right, but you've made mistakes too, right?"

_I don't exist, remember? _Tom said bitterly.

"This is ridiculous," Frank said. "Al, I called you here to discuss the fate of the world, not to have a rant about Dumbledore."

_I like ranting._

"So do I," Albus said, grinning. Frank rolled his eyes.

"Were either of you listening to the Sorting Hat's song?" he said, exasperated.

_I wasn't even there, mate._

"Al?"

"Erm, not really," Albus admitted. Frank sighed.

"You two have no sense of responsibility," he said. "Half of it was about you, anyways,"

_Oh, I'm so flattered._

"Seriously," said Frank, "I have a feeling that me and Albus might be able to prevent certain doom."

_How can you prevent it if the doom's certain? _Instead of answering, Frank turned to Albus.

"Okay, so I can see why you don't want to meld with this guy," he said.

"It's not his fault," said Albus, shrugging. "I just don't believe in resurrection or reincarnation or whatever the heck I supposedly am."

"Rebirth, probably," Frank said. "Al, have a sense of perspective. Is this really worth bringing about an apocalypse, just for the sake of being Albus Potter?"

"For me, yeah," said Albus, pulling away from the hand his friend had placed on his shoulder.

"Look, I'm a more complete person now that I'm Severus. You don't even completely lose yourself, you just get some new memories."

"In the end its our memories and experiences that create our personalities," Albus snarled. Frank drew back.

"Who the hell told you that dragon dung?" he asked.

_Guilty, _said Tom sheepishly.

"That's a lie! You can't trust semi-sentient memories, Al."

_Hey, I resent that. Dumbly actually is a douche bag, I wasn't lying to you then. _

"Surprisingly enough, I'm not going to argue with you about that," said Frank.

_Well, it _is _pretty much a fact of life._

"Back to the point," Frank said. "The Sorting Hat's song specifically mentioned rebirth."

"Um, how?" Albus said.

_Ashes to fire, death to life, duh!_

"Exactly!" Frank said. "And the hat said that two would stand alone. That must be us!"

"Or maybe its this evil that Dumbledore keeps hinting at. That would explain the fighting for the title of Dark Lord."

_Darkest Lord, actually._

"Guess that blows your theory out of the water, Al," said Frank smugly.

"But it said that the two would fight!" Albus insisted.

"And that the House divided would fall," Frank said. "Somehow I can't see this evil person of the millennium being a Gryffindor, and I definitely can't see myself trying to be the Darkest Lord."

_On the other hand, _Tom said quietly_, a lot can be said for evil people being in Slytherin._

"So you're saying Albus will be evil?" said Frank.

_No, _said Tom_, I'm saying that Alby is Voldemort. Maybe they're really fighting for who will be remembered as the greatest Dark wizard of all time. _Frank stroked his chin.

"Interesting theory," he said, then grinned wickedly at Albus. "Hey, Ai, I wouldn't be so quick to write this guy off. He's pretty sharp."

_I do try, _Tom said just as Albus yelled "No way!" Frank, still smirking, began to skim through a copy of _Common Potions for Defense and Disguise. _Finally Albus couldn't take the pointed looks and badly concealed snorts any longer. He ripped the book from Frank's hands and, as his friend stared, open mouthed, chucked the book strait over the velvet rope and into the restricted section.

"Well?" Albus said angrily. "Are you going to get it?"

"You're kidding," Frank said.

"I most definitely am not."

"Come on, Al, what did I do wrong?"

"You know exactly what you did wrong," said Albus coldly.

"I'll tell Madame Pierce," Frank said.

"What are you afraid of, Severus? Me?" Now _this _felt right to Albus, the rage coursing through his veins. Very familiar. Very _safe_.

"Albus, you're not acting like yourself. Is something wrong?" Albus, grinning, looked down at his hands. He was holding his wand, and slowly he lifted it up and pointed it directly at Frank's heart. Albus's grin widened at the look of horror on the weakling's face, and he began to say the words of the curse-

"Oh hell," Albus whispered, sinking into a chair, dropping his wand to the floor. "I was about to become him." Frank looked pale.

"B-but that was-"

"Horrible? Scary?" Albus said. "I was about to kill you, Frank, and you couldn't have done anything if I had."

_That. Was. Epic. _Both boys looked shocked.

"Epic?" Frank repeated dumbly.

_Yeah, _said Tom. _I felt so alive, like I had suddenly gotten shot full of caffeine or something._

"What do you mean?" Albus said shakily.

_I mean... wow, just wow. If that's how you guys feel all the time, I guess Dumbles was right. I'm not a real person. And now... now I feel dead. Can we do that again?_

"No!" Albus shouted. "You don't understand; you were taking over."

_Oh, man. If that's what it was, I want to take over._

"You can't! I won't let you!"

_Do you think that's what melding feels like? _Tom said dreamily. Albus looked at Frank, exasperation carved into his every feature.

"I think he's cracked, mate," said Albus. Frank nodded in agreement.

_**I think that's enough for one chapter. Please review! I will think about suggestions for future scenes. What do you think of Severus? **_


	13. Chapter 13: The Demon Inside

_**Yay! I'm updating again! I actually have a legit reason for skipping last week, 'cause I was in Washington DC and didn't have a computer until Saturday. Thank you everyone who reviewed! This is the chapter that almost had me change this rating to "M". Dumbledore fans beware! Anyways, without further ado, here's **__**The Demon Inside**__**.**_

Ever since Albus had slipped and let Tom take over he hadn't had a night which wasn't haunted by nightmares. They would usually start quite normally, with Albus walking down a long dirt trail in the middle of the woods. Then, out of the blue, a hooded figure would rise from the dust in front of him, blocking his path.

"Who are you?" Albus would ask.

"I am Death," the figure would say in a voice that chilled Albus to the bones.

"What do you want from me?" Albus would ask.

"I want your soul," Death would say. "You have brought many to my grasp, now it is your turn."

"I won't go with you," Albus said, drawing his wand. Death gave a cold laugh.

"Do you really expect me to fear a stick? Every spell you cast only makes me stronger." As if to prove his point, Death flew foreword and Albus's wand snapped in half. Undisturbed, Albus threw the halves aside and began to grapple with Death. Struggling and losing ground, Albus grasped the back of Death's hood and pulled.

The hood fell back, and a dead face stared at Albus. Sometimes the face was one person or another Albus knew Voldemort had killed, sometimes it was his mum or father, sometimes it was, eerily, Albus himself. Albus would stare, repulsed, then wake up, shivering and shaking. __

Sometimes Albus would try to talk to Tom or Frank about the nightmares, but neither was much help. Tom would only say that the dreams may stop if Albus melded with him (hint hint), and Frank could only offer cheap sentiments and wild theories. Albus, in his current condition, was in no mood for either.

One evening Albus was so desperate he decided that he wouldn't go to bed at all. Hour after hour he paced around the common room, until finally he fell asleep in an armchair. The next morning he awoke from his worst dream yet. Everything had happened just as in his previous dreams, but this time, when he had pulled down Death's hood, he was looking at the still alive, but barely, face of his father."You aren't my son," the thing had whispered, and out of the green orbs had shone hatred and disappointment. Albus didn't know which was worse.

"It was weird," he told Tom later, "but for a second I agreed with him. Just for a second I knew I deserved that kind of hatred."

_That's kind of disturbing, you know. _Tom said somewhat sarcastically.

"Tell me about it," Albus said seriously. "I can't even get a good night's sleep anymore. Every time I try that stupid dream comes, and its getting worse."

_All you need is a voice in your head and you'll really crack._

"Ha ha, very funny. You do realize I'm not in a laughing mood, Tom."

_You're never in a laughing mood anymore. It sucks._

"Yeah," said Albus. "You can thank insomnia for that."

All in all, Albus was glad when the weekends came and he could relax somewhat. But even the sunny September days dulled in their allure when Frank would force him to stay cooped up in the library, researching endlessly on all aspects of their former selves.

"This would all be so much more interesting," Albus said with a certain amount of sarcasm, "if you would actually tell me what the Kedavera we're looking for."

"I told you," Frank said, nose still buried in a book, "I'm looking for any clue to point toward who this new Dark Lord is."

"And why would this clue be in a dusty old book?" Albus said, scanning a page in a book that was, admittedly, both dusty and old.

"I don't know," said Frank. "I just had a feeling..."

"_I am not interested in feelings, Wormtail, I'm interested in results!"_

"_No, my Lord, please-"_

"_Crucio!"_

"Albus, are you okay? You look real pale." Frank sounded as though he was shouting down a long, windy tunnel. Albus struggled to push the flashback aside.

"I'm alright," he said. Frank looked unconvinced. "I feel alright, I'm just tired.

_I seriously doubt that. _said Tom.

"Why?" Frank said eagerly.

_For one thing, I feel like I've downed about fifty espressos._

"You let him take the wheel again," said Frank. It was a question, not a statement. Albus felt himself blush furiously.

"It's not like that," he muttered. "I can't control them, whatever they are. They just... come."

_And I want th_e_m to keep coming!_

"Well I don't. It's annoying and uncomfortable and..." Albus trailed off, shivering. He didn't want to tell Tom or Frank about the rage that had coursed through him, or the intense satisfaction he had felt at his servant's screams. It seemed dirty somehow, a secret Albus had to hide for fear that someone would see the evil that always lurked within him, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

"I just don't want Tom taking over, that's all," Albus said, ignoring his thoughts for the moment.

"You know that you're eventually going to have to face the truth," said Frank, now picking up a guide to classic wizarding history.

"Yeah, well, your idea of the truth is not the same as mine."

_Contradictive, boys, extremely contradictive. I doubt both of you can be right._

"The problem is," Frank said, ignoring Tom's input, "how are we going to defeat this new Dark Lord once we find out who he is? I'm still not up to my old strength, which has to do with being in such a young body, no doubt. You steadfastly refuse to allow the melding. I assume that this new Dark Lord has been gathering strength for many years."

"He could be biding his time," Albus said, "but for some reason I don't think that's the case."

_What else could it be, a monkey in a tutu?_

"I doubt that," said Albus, smiling despite himself at the image. "Perhaps the new Dark Lord isn't evil yet."

"We still have to do something," said Frank stoutly. "If Dumbledore and the Council of Light know about it, its bound to happen sooner or later. Its best to be ready for it."

_What if we make it so there's no one to be ready for? _A silence greeted these words.

"Tom," Frank said at last, "what you're talking about, that's changing fate. Its taboo."

_Says who, Dumbly?_

"It-its older than anything. The Council of Light, the Unforgivable Curses, even-" Frank's voice lowered into a whisper. "even time itself. Its one of the basic building stones of magic. Once your destiny has been set, there's no turning back."

_Are you saying Albs was destined to fail from the start? Are you saying that some people are made to make good decisions and have good things just happen to them, while others have to be the opposition? What are we, some sort of demented puppet show? _Albus, to his surprise, found himself silently agreeing with Tom, but he had also decided that he didn't want the only two people who knew about this weirdness fighting with each other.

"Tom! Frank! Calm down!" Albus commanded.

"Albus, don't you realize how important it is to make him see sense?" Frank said, quivering with rage. "He'd have us changing stuff left and right! How is he to know what's best? What if there's a plan-"

_Oh, yes, a secret master plan that makes everything good in the end, makes every evil you inflict alright, 'cause you were serving the master plan of fate and destiny! _Frank was opening his mouth to retort when Albus suddenly grew cold. The room began spinning, and Albus tightly shut his eyes. He felt as though he was going to be sick. When he opened them again he found himself in what looked like a broom closet, staring at a very familiar (and very naked) old man. Albus wanted to tell Dumbledore to get some clothes on, or at least get out of the closet, but his body no longer seemed to be under his control.

_So I've been sucked into a memory, _Albus thought, _Tom will have a field day._

"What is your price now?" Albus said. With a jolt he realized he was naked too. Empty wine bottles littered the floor, but, as Albus didn't feel at all drunk, he had to assume that Dumbledore had drank it all.

"S'all right," Dumbledore mumbled, slurring his words. Definitely drunk.

"Then I can destroy eastern London? Kill all the Muggles?"

"No dea'h," Dumbledore said. Albus felt irritation and anger flash through him.

"Its for the greater good, Albus," said Albus soothingly.

"Gre'er good," mumbled Dumbledore.

"We'll be heroes!"

"He'oes." Dumbledore smiled stupidly.

"We'll lift wizards and witches everywhere from under the hammer of Muggles!"

"Mu'les."

"All I need is your cooperation, Albus, and we will be the saviors of wizard-kind."

"Gelly?" Dumbledore murmured. "'Sat you?"

_He must be talking about Grindelwald, _Albus thought to himself.

"Yes, it is me, Alby," Albus said. "What do you say, my love?"

"'Sall right. Mu'les na' nice. Dea'h's good fo' 'em." Dumbledore giggled like a little girl, then he fell backwards and began to snore. Albus looked down at him, disgusted.

"Good job, old fool," he said, contempt laced in every word. "Thanks to you I am one step closer to victory." Then the world around Albus dissolved into black, with that last word still echoing around him. Albus clamped his hands over his ears, trying to keep out the sound, but it still bounced around his head. Victory... victory was what he wanted... what he needed... he'd strived... he had to succeed... he just had to... nothing else mattered... nothing... _nothing..._

"Are you okay, Al?" Albus opened his eyes to see Frank kneeling next to him.

"I-I'm just fine," Albus said, propping himself up into sitting position. "Tom, are you alright?"

_I'M GOOD GOOD GOOD TO GO! _Tom sang. _THERE'S NO BETTER WAY OF WAKING UP THAN WITH FOLGER'S IN YOUR CUUUUP!_ Albus rolled his eyes.

"I should've known," he said as Tom continued to sing annoyingly.

_**Well, what do you think? Is Dumbledore too disturbing? Not disturbing enough? Should Albus get sucked into any more visions like this? Do you want me to continue the theme about changing fate? Do you like Albus's dreams/nightmares about Death? Review please!**_


	14. Chapter 14: An Unexpected Complication

_**Wow! *hugs imperial queen and HP-fanfic-fan101* Thank you guys so much for the awesome reviews! I don't think my little story is a "masterpiece" though, HP. I'm nothing next to the genius who is J.K. Rowling. Anyways, I wasn't quite as happy with this chapter as the others, but I tried writing it a couple different ways and this was the best I could do. Enjoy!**_

"Tom's singing is getting really old," Frank said as he and Albus walked down to breakfast the next day.

"You can say that again," muttered Albus, who was sporting two very large bags under his eyes, courtesy of Tom singing far into the night.

_THIS IS THE ANNOYING SONG! LA LA LA LA LA! YOU'LL____HATE IT BUT YOU'LL SING ALONG! LA LA LA LA LA!_

"Can it," Albus snapped. "Anyways," he said, continuing his conversation with Frank, "at least I didn't have that stupid nightmare again."

"Small comfort," said Frank. "You can't keep going without sleep. You'll die."

"But if I go to sleep I _meet _Death," Albus pointed out. Frank was about to respond when both the boys fell victim to a well-placed tripping charm. Frank hit his head on the side of a table, while Albus skidded about five feet to have his bag ripped open by another spell. Books, parchment, and a few Blister Bonbons fell to the ground, and, as a grand finale, Albus's ink fell and all but exploded as the bottle broke. His face splattered (probably fortunate, as he was blushing), Albus began to gather his things and tried to ignore the snorts of laughter from Scorpius's part of the Slytherin table. Frank, muttering colorful curses under his breath, crawled over to help Albus.

"Al, what's this?" Frank asked. Albus looked up.

"What?"

"What is this?" Then Albus noticed that Frank was holding a photograph.

"It's a picture," he said. "What else would it be?" Frank didn't seem to hear a single word.

"But- but it's _her_."

"What are you talking about?" Albus was starting to get a bit irritated with his friend, who still seemed to not be hearing him.

"Her- her eyes. How could I have forgotten? I killed her."

"What are you looking at?" Albus tore the photograph from Frank's hands to find that it was of him, James, and Lily the last summer in Diagon Alley. "Frank, why are you freaking out?"

"I killed her. I told _Him_, and now she's gone, dead."

"Frank, snap out of it!"

"I have to warn him. I can't let him die. I can't obey, but I have to. Dumbledore said." Albus secretly wondered whether Frank had cracked.

"Frank!" he yelled, slapping his friend across the face. For a moment Frank looked enraged, then the Gryffindor's eyes glazed over.

"Al?" Frank whispered as he collapsed, his breathing loud and harsh.

"It's okay, Frank," said Albus. Frank shook his head.

"I-I was gone," he said. "I hated you. You killed Lily."

"I'm sorry, Frank."

"No, Al. It was me. I... lost control. Too many memories. Too many ghosts. I told Dumbledore I'd forgive you. I can't. I'm too weak."

_You're not weak, Frank. _Tom said savagely. _This is Dumbly's fault, none other's._

"Can't stop them. Can't let go. Can't."

"Then we'll help you," Albus said. "Meet me in the Slytherin common room at midnight tonight. The password's 'worm guts'. We'll contact Dumbledore together and put a stop to this."

"But what if we can't!"

_We'll be able to, I promise._

"How can you be so sure?" Frank said. Albus, truth be told, was wondering the same thing.

_I'm Alby's memories, remember? I'll just tell Dumbles that you two fancy a chat and BAM! you're in. _

"Sounds good to me," said Albus, "Is tonight okay with you Frank?" Sitting up, Frank gave Albus a small smile.

"Count me in," he said.

"Did you get here alright?" Albus whispered.

"Didn't even meet Peeves," said Frank as he sat in one of the hard armchairs. Albus smiled to himself despite his nervousness. The last time he'd seen Dumbledore, in the memory, it had been rather awkward. Albus wasn't sure he could even think about the old man without seeing the image of him naked and drunk.

_Everybody ready? _Tom asked suddenly, snapping Albus out of his reverie. Both boys nodded. _Then sit down and buckle your seatbelts. Please remember to keep you hand, legs, and other bodily parts inside the car at all times. Do not remove your seatbelt until the ride has come to a complete stop. And hold on, boys, this might be a bumpy ride._ Barely a moment after Tom had said this Albus was swept into a meaningless montage of images. First he was in an orphanage, then at Hogwarts, then in a bathroom, then in a grand house staring at a man who looked a lot like him (but in his early forties), then he was in a dark shop, then gathering followers, then... then... Darkness. Pain. Suffering. And somewhere, hidden even from himself, remorse and regret for what he had done, yet still the horrible knowledge that it had all been necessary.

Albus surfaced from the strange vision to find himself in a painfully bright white room. The first thing he noticed was that Tom and Dumbledore were arguing again. No surprise there. The second thing he noticed was that Frank wasn't there.

"Oy!" he shouted. "Where's Frank?" Tom scowled.

"I tried to bring him along, but he wouldn't come. Something's keeping him tied to the land of the living."

"Which is very bad news," Dumbledore added. "I may have lost control of his soul." Tom turned toward Dumbledore, shock and anger etched into his every feature.

"Control?" Tom said suspiciously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What I mean is that I was in charge of Severus's soul, but he must have become to attached to something in the physical world. If so..."

"Will he die?" Albus asked quickly. This time it was Tom who answered him.

"No, worse. He might keep on living."

"Huh?" Tom sighed.

"When Dumbly here had you two reborn, he had to take time off the lives of other people. You are quite literally living on borrowed time."

"So if Severus has gotten too tied to his life for some reason, that's not good," Dumbledore said. "He's been set to die at a certain point, but he could keep stealing time off other people, most likely those closest to him, and live on indefinitely. The balance of everything could be disrupted."

"Really?" said Albus. "What's so bad about that?" Dumbledore looked shocked that Albus could even think such a thing.

"Albus, there's a reason messing with fate isn't allowed."

"But if he just wants to keep on living-"

"Then Severus's personal preferences will have to be set aside for the greater good. We cannot afford any missteps now."

"Oh, really," Tom said. "I suppose Alby's continuing denial isn't a misstep."

"I told you before, it is a setback, no more."

"Why did Frank crack?" Albus said loudly, trying to get the conversation back on track. Dumbledore and Tom turned toward Albus; Tom looked slightly amused.

"Frank didn't crack," he said. "His old memories were trying to remind him why he had been reborn in the first place."

"But why _then_?" Tom shrugged.

"Hey, this is uncharted territory. I think it might be because he experienced something that allowed the memories to take hold, but I can't be certain."

"Great," Albus groaned. "Bloody brilliant. Even if I meld I'll have to deal with the memories taking over all the time."

"Hey, at least if we meld I'll be able to get high on life all the time. What do you say? Is it worth the tradeoff?"

"No," said Albus. Dumbledore rolled his eyes.

"This," he said, "is beside the point. What we need to do is find a way to make sure Severus is completely under my- er, I mean, the Council of Light's control." Tom and Albus exchanged a meaningful look, then Tom turned his full attention back to Dumbledore.

"Look, Dumbly, Frank's happy as he is. More than happy, he's on cloud seven researching all about the last war and all that shit. Thinks he can find the new Dark Lord in _The History of Magic. _The best thing you can do for him is leave him alone and hang your grand plans." Dumbledore looked over his spectacles, his ice blue eyes stern and foreboding.

"Tom, you know what a serious thing it is to mess with fate," the old man said. "Voldemort changed it so much already. Just a little more and the whole world will be done in-"

"And I can see why you wouldn't want that for all those poor people. Horrible company up here."

"I wouldn't joke about this if I were you. Everything hangs on a balance now, and our two boys could tip the scales. Besides, a little bird told me you've been neglecting your duty-"

"I'LL SHOW YOU A BIRD!" Tom yelled, pointing both his middle fingers at Dumbledore. Dumbledore, naturally, looked rather offended. Albus, also naturally, began laughing. Tom looked very pleased with himself.

"Tom, your childishness doesn't change anything," said Dumbledore grumpily. "If you don't attempt to fetch Severus, I will, and neither of us want that."

"Fine, Dumbly," Tom grumbled, sticking his tongue out at the old man. Then Tom screwed up his face in an expression of until the wavering image of Frank Longbottom gradually flickered into existence.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice faint and echoing.

"Severus, it appears as though you have become too attached to something in the land of the living," Dumbledore said irritably.

"No idea what that could be," said Frank glibly. Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" he said. "What about a certain little red haired girl?" Frank blushed furiously.

"That was confidential!" he protested. "You promised you wouldn't tell anyone, especially Albus."

"Wait a minute," said Albus. "You're in love with _my sister!_"

"Well she is sort of a stud," Tom remarked.

"You pervert!" Albus yelled. "She's only nine!"

"Yeah, but she's a nine-year-old stud, right Frankie?" When Frank didn't respond except by blushing even deeper Tom added, "Come on, Frank. Say you love her and won't get unattached, then we can go run in the fields with butterflies and cute little bunny rabbits. You know, true love and all that flobberworm shit." Both Frank and Albus were temporarily struck dumb, the former from embarrassment and the latter from anger and more embarrassment. Frank was the first to recover.

"Cute little bunny rabbits?" he said. "Kind of low for the big bad memories of LV."

"Hey, Voldemort had a soft spot for bunnies. And butterflies. And snakes. Any cute creature, really. And before you look at me like that," Tom added, for Frank looked as though he was trying not to laugh, "remember I'm just the memory man. _I _don't have a soft spot for cuddly creatures, Alby does."

"This is rather beside the point-" Dumbledore began.

"Shut up!" Albus and Tom said in unison. Frank grinned.

"Blimpy, you two are classic," he said. "Almost like brothers." Albus smiled too, but only because over the weeks he had begun to consider Tom as a sort of friend. Not a brother, mind you, just a very good friend.

Dumbledore must have guessed Albus's thoughts because he sighed and said, "How many times must I point out that _Tom is not a person?_" Tom bristled.

"Well I'm a damn better person than you are," he stated coldly.

"Tom, I'm warning you, if you say one more word I'll forbid you from taking over for a month."

"One more word," said Tom sarcastically.

"Tom-"

"One more word."

"Tom, I'm warning you-"

"ONE MORE FUCKING WORD!" Tom sang.

"TOM!" Dumbledore roared. Albus jumped backwards, startled and just a little bit scared. Even Tom was eyeing Dumbledore warily.

"Tom," Dumbledore said again, taking deep breaths to calm himself, "I'm in no mood for your antics. I've just had a meeting with the Council of Light, and they are 'suggesting' I fix it so you are no longer sentient. I must admit that after your display I am seriously considering doing just that." Tom's jaw dropped. He sputtered for a few moments, then finally found his voice again.

"But that's- that's murder!"

"No it isn't," Dumbledore said, "as you aren't alive and don't really exist."

"But I do! I am!"

"You fool, you are just memories. Memories cannot think and feel. Memories cannot be touched-"

"But I can be! Dumbles, just give me a chance-"

"You don't hate what you've done; you are dangerous!"

"According to you I didn't do anything, so what is there to hate?"

"Anyone with a spark of decency would be disgusted by the mere mention of what Voldemort did! To have his memories but not hate oneself-"

"It's not my fault, its Alby's!" Tom yelled, one hand shakily pointing a finger at Albus. "You don't get it, do you? Those memories are what I am. I don't hate them because that would be going against my nature!"

"Tom, I am absolutely ashamed of you-"

"Shut up, Dumbledore," Albus said quietly. To his surprise both Dumbledore and Tom did just that. Albus turned from one to the other. "I'm disappointed in you, both of you," he said. "Dumbledore, my father told me that you were a great man, a good man, Then I get here to find an arrogant, power-hungry dimwit who can't see beyond his own agenda and plans and assumes that everyone exists simply to be a pawn, _his _pawn. Tom," Tom fidgeted uncomfortably, "stop blaming everything bad that happens to you on everyone and thing else. Sure, the circumstances you've found yourself in are pretty crappy, but you can choose the way you react to them and make them better, both for yourself and others. Take some responsibility when you've made a mistake, and you might not be half as annoying."

"Hey, I'm _not _annoying," Tom objected. Albus rolled his eyes.

"See what I mean?" he said. Then Albus turned to Frank, who was still flickering and looking very nervous.

"What're you going to rant at me about?" he asked defensively.

"Frank," Albus said, "at some point you're going to have to choose. Between life and death; between love and duty. Whichever you choose, I'll support you. I don't think this problem has any right answer. It's just... you. You can't have a foot in both worlds, mate."

"Wow, Al, since when have you been so wise?" said Frank.

"Yeah," Tom said with a hint of respect in his voice. "What script did you get those lines from?"

"I don't know," Albus said honestly. "It just... came to me."

"Well one thing's for certain," said Tom. "I'm going to take your advice and be as annoying as a three-year-old singing Christmas radio jingles while doing it." Frank raised an eyebrow.

"Now there's the Tom we all know and love," he said with absolutely no sarcasm.

_**Whew! That took a while! Hope you liked the chapter! Review please! **_

_**P.S. Over 2500 words! Wow! **_


	15. Chapter 15: Family Matters

_**Umm... Okay. I'm getting lazy, and my muse for this story is long gone. But, you know, I still want to finish it. Hopefully this chapter is as good as all the others. If not, I apologize.**_

Tom was as good as his word. For the next weeks, as September turned to October and Halloween drew near, Tom took every opportunity to "take responsibility", which usually consisted of him apologizing in very obnoxious and sarcastic ways. Still, Albus didn't complain, partly because he knew that he had asked for it and partly because he had to deal with one more problem, in addition to Frank's creepy love life and his creepy identity.

The problem came in the form of the Potter family owl, Effie, gliding down to his place at the breakfast table one Friday morning. Albus untied a roll of parchment from her leg and stared gloomily at it, stroking Effie absentmindedly. He'd known that eventually his father and mum would get worried by his lack of letters, but still he'd put off writing, dreading the prospect of telling his family he was in Slytherin. There's be no escaping that now, he thought melodramatically as he unrolled the parchment and began to read, expecting to find a hysterical letter from his parents. Instead he found something worse.

Dear Albus (the letter read),

Please please _please_ write as soon as you can. Mum and Dad are really worried. They don't show it, but I can tell they are. They've started fighting again; I heard them last night, and Dad's been working a lot again. You know he only does that when he's worried about something around home. Al, I'm so scared. Everything's falling apart, and if you'd only write it'd get _so_ much better. And _please_ send Effie back quickly. I'm not supposed to be using her and Dad'll be so angry when he finds out.

Love,

Lily

Albus groaned and reread the letter a few times. It was so typical that the moment he left for Hogwarts was the moment things at home would begin to fall apart, and if Lily was noticing it and worried enough to send him a letter, things must be very bad. It didn't help that he'd always been the one to help Kreacher try and hide any problems from Lily which, when added to her generally happy and sweet personality, usually worked. There had been times, however, when Lily had overheard their father and mum's fights, and _those_ times had always scared her to death. When James was around he just complicated matters by barging into whatever room his parents were in and turning it into a three-way shouting match. Mostly Albus just tried to keep Lily and himself out of it. So if he had heard about the fights any other way he would have done just that, not written and stayed out of it.

But if Lily was this upset... Albus knew he didn't want to write home, but he had to admit that if his mum and father were fighting about anything it was probably his lack of contact. Even if that wasn't the main issue a letter could only help calm Lily. What Albus needed was somebody he could confide in, to give him a second opinion. Usually he'd choose Kreacher or Frank, but Kreacher was at his home/war zone and Albus didn't feel comfortable talking about his sister around Frank. Unfortunately that left only one person...

"Tom?" Albus whispered, almost hoping that the voice wouldn't answer.

_How can I be completely, totally, globally, entirely, wholly, fully, integrally, roundly, exhaustively, inclusively, comprehensively, largely, unconditionally, unrestrictedly, thoroughly, and unreservedly at the service of Al, the great and powerful?_

"Cut out the funny stuff, Tom, please? I have a serious problem here."

_Ooo, Alby has a problem. How surprising._

"Do you want to help me out here or not?"

_Actually no, but unfortunately helping you out is in my job description. _

"Glad to hear you care so much," Albus said, rolling his eyes. "Tom, this is about my mum and dad and sister."

_Having family issues, Albs?_

"Yeah," said Albus, then he quickly outlined what the situation at his home probably was. When he haad finished Tom let out a long, low whistle.

_Man, your family's pretty messed up, huh?_

"Right now, yeah. Usually, no."

_Rough spot in your parents' marriage?_

"No way! It probably has something to do with me actually. I haven't written home yet."

_Well, that was kind of stupid. But you said this has happened before._

"So?"

_So what usually happens to make them fight?_

"Well, sometimes it's Dad's job, you know, Chief Auror. Like if someone breaks out of Azkaban, or he comes back injured of something. They also sometimes fight after a Dark Wizard tries to kill one of us kids."

_What do they fight about?_

"Stuff. Mum wants to move somewhere not as well known, my father wouldn't leave Number 12 for anything. Mum wants my father to quit his job or get a desk job. He'd never do that. He loves being out there, risking his life like a damn fool, us not knowing if we'll ever see him alive again. Then he comes back to pretend everything's alright when we can _see _the marks. We can see his scars, and how much pain he's in sometimes, but does he tell us what the hell happened to him? No, of course not," Albus finished bitterly. Truly, he hadn't meant to say so much, especially about his father, but the words had just come spilling out. And, really, it had felt good to be able to share it all with someone he was sure wouldn't judge him and his family too harshly. After all, Tom had memories of killing his father, surely he wouldn't think Albus was bad for being so angry at his own father.

_Do you care? _Tom said suddenly.

"Huh?" said Albus.

_Do you care about your family?_

"Of course I do!"

_Your mum?_

"Definitely."

_Your brother and sister?_

"With all my heart."

_Your dad? _Albus paused.

"Yeah, I do, but its complicated."

_How?_

"I really do care about him, but sometimes- sometimes I get so angry at him. He goes out there, getting cursed every other day, then he just comes home and shuts us out of the rest of his life, like it can't touch us even though I know it can! I don't want to be protected, I want to know why people have tried to kill me and Lily and James, I want to know him. I just want to know why!"

_Your father's famous, Albs, there's no getting around that._

"But _why_? That's the question I've asked him for years, but he won't answer me. I know he killed Voldemort, I know Voldemort was evil, but _why_?" Tom was silent for what seemed like a very long time.

_Harry didn't kill Voldemort. _Tom finally said. Albus's mouth dropped open.

"Wha- what do you mean?"

_He didn't kill him, okay? Voldemort's own curse rebounded back at himself. Harry had no more to do with it than some random hobo off the street would._

"But he's famous for it-"

_Look, you asked for advice, not a play-by-play of my memories. My advice is to write to them, and let go of your anger toward your father, no matter how much he deserves it. Albus, it makes everything much easier in the long run and a lot less like _Hamlet_._

"You called me Albus," Albus said.

_So what?_

"You're speaking from experience, aren't you?" Tom sighed.

_Not experience, as Dumbles would be only too happy to point out. But memories, yes._

"Do you want to talk about it?"

_I've lived with my self this long, I think I can survive._

"You can't leave this all bottled up inside you, Tom." When Tom didn't respond Albus closed his eyes. "Show me," he whispered.

_Seriously? You're giving me permission to take over?_

"Yes," said Albus. "I am."

_But I thought you hated it when I took control?_

"I do," Albus said, smiling grimly, "but you have to realize that you aren't alone. You can trust me."

_Are you sure you want me to do this?_

"As sure as I'll ever be. Now do it before I change my mind."

_I seriously never thought I'd hear you say that. _Tom said as Albus again felt as though the world was spinning. This time when Albus opened his eyes he was, thankfully, not looking at a naked Dumbledore. What he was looking at was a man who looked like an older version of Tom. Albus's wand was pressed into the man's chest, And Albus could feet the cold happiness the horror of the man brought to him, though his face was carefully expressionless.

"Do you know who I am?" Albus said softly. The man franticly shook his head. "I am your son!"

"I- I have no son," the man said, his voice hoarse with fear.

"Really?" Albus's voice rose with his anger. "Doesn't the name Merope Gaunt mean anything to you? Or did you just use her like the Muggle filth you are?" The man in the chair was beginning to panic.

"She- she hoodwinked me, I tell you! I lost all sense!"

"LIER!" Albus yelled. "You abandoned her! You abandoned _me_!" Albus's wand burned a hole in the man's expensive suit. He was so full of emotion, so full of the rage against his absent father that he didn't know what to do with it all. Albus lifted his wand up from the man, struggling with himself. The man's face showed surprise then slow hope. No! The wand slashed downward, a green light bursting forth from it then... It was over. Albus was staring at the dead body, his first kill, his father, Tom Riddle Senior.

But that still didn't satisfy him, his rage. Albus spun around to face his grandparents. Their faces were full of surprise; they hadn't yet realized that their son was dead. They never would. Crack! Crack! Soon they, too, were slain. The hate still burned in Albus, but for now it was sated, he could wait. For now...

Albus opened his eyes to find that he had been crying. Slightly unnerved, he began to wipe the tears from his cheeks, then stopped. Those were likely the only tears ever shed for Tom Riddle Senior and his parents. Albus lowered his hand, keeping them where they were.

"Oh, Tom," he breathed.

_I've had a lot of time to think about what I've done, or what I feel that I did. But no matter how many times I relive that, I can't make myself regret it. Maybe Dumbles is right. Maybe I am a monster. But my father got what was coming to him._

"Maybe he did, but that doesn't make what you did right," said Albus. "Besides, that was your first kill. What if you hadn't done him in?"

_You know, that's a good question. Ever since that point I've felt this rage toward Muggles that had started with my father. If I'd been able to forgive him that day, I might not have become Lord Voldemort at all. But there's no use thinking about that. What's done is done, and according to Dumbly and Frankie there was never any choice in the first place._

"That doesn't feel right at all, that you _had _to kill your father and grandparents."

_It doesn't to me either, but what can we do? Contradict Dumbly?_

"You do that plenty already."

_True._

"And wouldn't it be awesome if we were right? If we had a choice?"

_Duh! But if we're wrong, Dumbles will never let us hear the end of it. _Albus shrugged.

"Who says we have to value his opinion?"

_Um, how about everyone? He's Albus Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake!_

"That doesn't make him a god."

_More like an idol. But whatever. There's no use even thinking about defying Dumbly._

"Why not? We could do it!"

_You could, maybe. I couldn't._

"Why not?"

_Didn't you hear him? He could kill me without a second thought! _

"You do realize you aren't alive, right?"

_You know what I mean! Unless we meld soon Saint Dumbles could make good his threat. Pop! No more Tom, memory man extraordinaire._

"I don't want you to be destroyed, but I'm not going to meld. I'm not Voldemort!"

_Seriously? You have a voice in your head a dead guy wants to kill and a best friend who wants to sleep with your sister, and you won't believe the least complicated part of this whole mess?_

"You don't get it, Tom. I _can't _believe it. Voldemort was so evil, and if I believe I'm him, I might become like him. Like- like in that memory you showed me. A killer. I can't let that happen to me."

_Look, he wasn't all that bad-_

"Prove it! Name one time Voldemort was genuinely kind to someone! Name one time he looked out for someone other than himself!" For a long time Tom was silent.

_Umm..._

"What? Having trouble?"

_Well, there sort of isn't a time in his life that meets your exact specifications._

"Aha! So you admit that he was evil!"

_As I've said before, evil is mostly opinion-_

"Don't try to be all smart with me, Tom. I know what you're trying to do."

_Hey, I'm getting some Dumbly vibes here, Albs. Just calm down, kid._

"Who are you to tell me to calm down, _kid_?"

_Look, just because you get Voldy's memories doesn't make you automatically like him._

"You're the one who claims that memories create who we are!"

_Maybe I messed up on that. Even if I was right, you have plenty of new memories from this life. They might be enough to make you a better person than before. _Albus stopped, torn between his real agreement with Tom and his still real frustration with the memories.

"Tom?" Albus said at last.

_What?_

"I let you take over."

_Yeah, so?_

"So, why aren't you all hyper?"

_Huh?_

"I said, why aren't you all hyper?"

_Do you miss my hyper-ness?_

"Erm..."

_My calm can be easily rectified..._

"Oh, no!"

_AND THIS LIFE SENTENCE I'VE BEEN SERVING, I ADMIT THAT I'M EVERY BIT DESERVING, BUT THE BEAUTY OF GRACE IS THAT IT MAKES LIFT NOT FAIR! _Tom sang loudly.

_**The singing at the end was from the song **__**Be My Escape**__** by Reliant K. For some reason this chapter reminds me of the Three Days Grace song **__**Never Too Late**__**. Well, whatever. I'm just being random. Review, please!**_


	16. Chapter 16: Nothing, Literally

_**Yay! My muse is back... sort of. This chapter things *finally* start coming together. Thank you HP-fanfic-fan101 for the lovely reviews!**_

The November that year was dreary and plodding, with cold rains that made everyone dread Wednesday's Herbology lessons. It seemed as though the passage of time had slowed to a snail's pace, and so Albus was glad to receive an invitation to tea with Hagrid, as it broke the general monotony

of the month.

Per the invite, he and Frank tromped down to the cabin one Friday afternoon at about three, chattering happily about Quittich with Tom making the usual ignored comments. It wasn't until they were nearly to Hagrid's doorstep that Frank voiced what he had doubtless been thinking the whole was down.

"Al," he said, "maybe we should tell someone about everything that's going on."

"What?" Albus said.

"Face it, we're over our heads," said Frank. "We have no idea who the new Dark Lord is, and he or she could strike at any time. We need more eyes searching for signs, and with both of our... complications, it'd be safer to make sure we have backup."

"Frank, you're off your rocker," Albus said, staring with mixed awe and frustration at his friend. "Who'd believe us if we told them? Even I don't believe us. And if anyone did believe us, I'd be carted off to Azkaban for sure."

"Why would you be?"

"I'm supposed to be _Lord Voldemort_. People are still afraid to say his name, how afraid would they be if someone claimed to be him, back from the grave? They'd panic, Frank, probably even set dementors loose in whatever cell they were holding me in-"

"Yeah, but if you had me backing you up-"

"Do you think they'd take the word of one eleven-year-old wizard who also claimed to be reborn over almost a century of hatred? No, the world would hate me if they knew what I supposedly am," Albus said with an air of finality that plainly told Frank not to argue the point further. Instead he turned and knocked on the wooden door. Almost instantly the mammoth figure of Hagrid opened the door.

"Wasn't sure yeh'd make it," he boomed, enveloping the boys in a hug that threatened to break both their spines. "We're goin' inter the forest today. Hope yeh don't mind the change o' plans."

"But I thought we were going to be having tea," Frank whined.

_Be grateful. At least this way you have less of a chance of going to St. Mungo's. _Hagrid, naturally, didn't hear Tom's comment.

"Later, Frank," he said, licking his upper lip nervously. "Lots o' strange things 'ave been happening in the forest lately. Animals gettin' spooked by somethin'. Unicorns dead an' thestrals gone missin'. The centaurs sayin' tha' Mars's eclipsin' Jupiter or some such callswop. Point is, we gotter go in an' flush out whatever's bin disruptin' thing in there."

"Wait," said Albus, "You mean to say that we're going *into* a very forbidden forest where animals are dieing?"

"O' course!" Hagrid said. "Yer not jist gonna sit there like duffers while them fascinatin' creatures're being hinted don an' killed."

_That makes so much sense. _Albus considered responding to Tom, but thought better of it.

"But, Hagrid, we could all be killed!" Albus said instead.

"The creatures're bein' killed righ' now!" said Hagrid. "An' if yeh two don't get goin' righ' this minute I'll go inter there be meself." Albus and Frank looked at each other, exasperated, but Hagrid's threat had worked.

There was no way that either one of them would let Hagrid go alone into the forest inhabited by a killer that could want a person-burger for snack. So, swallowing their fear, the boys ran after the already distant figure of Hagrid.

The forest around Albus was alive with the sounds of small animals, and, though fear lay like lead in his stomach, Albus felt strangely disconnected from the world around him. A sound that, under normal circumstances, would cause him to run away screaming merely mad the boy jump. It was not unlike being sucked into a memory, but this couldn't be a memory, for Hagrid and Frank still walked in front of him. Suddenly there was a loud rustling in the brush beside the trail. Albus and Frank froze; Hagrid rose his massive crossbow. Another rustle. Hagrid steadied his aim. Then a creature that looked like a skeletal black Pegasus pushed its way through the bushes.

Hagrid wiped his brow, sighing with relief. "It's jist a thestral," he said. "I'm glad this one's alright."

"What do you mean?" said Frank, staring at the creature.

"O' course yeh lot couldn't see 'em. Only show themselves when yeh've seen someone die. But they've bin disappearin' like mad o' late. Dunno what ter make o' it." Albus gazed at the thestral, wondering how he could see it in the first place. He'd never seen anything die besides some spiders that Lily always insisted on him squashing. Somehow, Albus didn't think that counted.

_Wow, you really are thick._

"Tom, if you're just going to criticize me, shut up," Albus whispered, automatically slowing his pace to put a little distance between him and the two others. Frank began asking Hagrid questions about thestrals, but Albus knew that his friend was paying rapt attention to his and Tom's conversation.

_I mean, I always knew you weren't the loudest Mandrake in the pot, but even you should be able to connect the bright red blinking huge dots._

"Get to the point."

_Fine. It's actually just simple arithmetic. You= Voldy= kill stuff= see thestrals. Got it, Albs?_

"I'm not Voldemort."

_Oh, quit with your denials. You see winged horses, you get sucked into memories, you have an uber-awesome voice in your head-_

"That last part's debatable."

_Regardless, its a little obvious that something's going on. Either that or the doctor dropped you on the head when you were a baby._

"Hmm, how about neither."

_What is that, your catchphrase or something?_

"I hope not."

_Same here, 'cause I can think of about fifty better ones right this second, and one involves coconuts. _Albus was about to say that Tom wasn't making any sense, but then he froze. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and a chill raced up and down his spine like a tiny ant, light and almost unnoticeable but there nonetheless.

"I've been here before," Albus whispered.

_What? _Tom's voice sounded as though he was far, far away. _Albs, I'm getting some bad reception here._

"I've been here before." Albus was excited now. He dropped to the ground, then felt a tingling sensation race up his arm from his left hand. Instinctively Albus knew what to do.

Albus stood up and carefully put his left foot to the place his hand had fallen. Again he felt the tingling. Albus stuck his right leg out in front of him, slowly shuffling the adjoined foot across the leaf-strewn ground. Eventually he was awarded with another tingling, a stronger one this time.

Thus Albus continued on, the tingling becoming so great that it was akin to pain. The Slytherin didn't care, though, because he felt, no, he _knew _that at the end of it all was the answer to everything, to all the burning questions and problems that had plagued him since the beginning of the school year. It would confirm that he wasn't really Voldemort. It would fix Frank's weird fixation with Lily. It would make sure that Tom wouldn't be killed. So slowly Albus continued on, step by painful step, until he felt something tell him that the trail had ended.

Albus opened his eyes, which had closed over the course of his journey, and looked around himself. He was in a clearing that had cobwebs draped everywhere. For some strange reason Albus felt he should kneel, as though he was on sacred ground.

_Sad, isn't it? _Albus jumped. The voice wasn't Tom.

_No, I'm not the memories. I'm something much older. _This voice was softer and kinder than Tom, without the bitter, sarcastic edge that accompanied Tom's every word. But even with the gentleness Albus felt a sort of menace concealed, waiting for an excuse to make itself known.

"What are you?" Albus blurted out. The new voice laughed softly.

_That is really the question, isn't it? I used to be a Fragment, a piece of your soul incased in Harry Potter-_

"You mean you're a Horcrux?" Albus said, not bothering to point out that he wasn't Voldemort.

_No. A Horcrux is the Fragment and Container together. If the Container is destroyed, then so is the Fragment._

"But my father wasn't destroyed."

_Yes. He survived, but I was pushed out of the Container. Now I am a Nothing._

"You're not nothing!"

_In this case, young one, I am. Literally. Your Tom is a Memory Holder. You are a Living, and also a Reborn. I am a Nothing. I play no role, I simply am._

"It must be lonely, living like that."

_It is. _the Nothing said wistfully. _But here I am, the best part of Voldemort._

"What do you mean, the best part?"

_Oh, Fragments usually have some affinity with the container they're encased in._

"Is there any way for you to become more than a Nothing?" Albus said.

_Not that I know- Oh! Do you want answers?_

"Yes!" Albus cried out, relieved that the expectation he had built over the course of his journey through the forest hadn't been for nothing.

_Perhaps... well, it would be nice, but I would need Tom's help._

"I'm sure he'll help you."

_Wait, I did _not _sign up for this. _Tom said, speaking at last. _So if you want my help, all I can say is 'No, mon.'_

"Please, Tom."

_Shut up, Alby._

"It could get me closer to melding with you."

_Seriously?_

_Of course. _the Nothing said. _I'll give him the answers to his questions. How could that not help him meld, Memory Holder?_

_You could lie to him._

_And why would I do that?_

_There are tons of reasons. You could want to seize Albs' soul, or just push it out. Don't tell me you don't want to be more than a Nothing._

_I do. I will become an Igniter._

"What's an Igniter?" Albus said.

_An Igniter gives what information the Council of Light wishes to give. This will involve Tom and I briefly touching your and your father's souls-_

"Why?"

_Even with Tom, I am not strong enough to ignite the knowledge you need without another source to tap into. Your father was my Container for many years, so I can already reach him with relative ease. With any luck, there should be no permanent aftereffects._

"Well, that's alright then," said Albus, trying to sound confident and failing miserably.

_Hey, cheer up, Albs. _Tom said. _After this we'll meld!_

"There's no need to sound so happy about it," Albus grumbled.

_Stop bickering, you two. _the Nothing ordered. _Tom, are you ready?_

_As you wish. _Tom said with no sarcasm, for once. Albus heard some grunts from inside his head then... then it was some how plain. The cog had shifted and clicked into place. His brain began to rapid-fire and make connections on its own. Emotions and sensations assaulted Albus, forcing him to twist his perception of reality to their liking.

It all made sense now. He _was _Voldemort. Frank was in love with his sister because she looked like and shared a name with the lost love of his former life. Dumbledore _might _make good his threat to kill Tom, but if Albus melded, it was likely Tom would cease to exist. And something else was there... something vague, so vague Albus could barely reach it. Thestrals... something about the thestrals...

"I have to talk to Hagrid," Albus muttered, getting up from the ground where he had fallen as the information had flooded him.

_Hey, wait! _Tom said. _Shouldn't we meld now, before Dumbly decides to do something drastic._

"I can't, Tom," Albus said, trying to figure out in which direction the path lay.

_WHAT? But the information would've confirmed that you're Voldy reborn? How can you refuse to meld after that? _Albus stopped.

"You didn't see it?" he said incredulously.

_The answers are your own, I can't touch them. But, seriously, is this the whole 'I might become like him' deal? Because I doubt that you'll be exactly-_

"Tom," Albus said, "if we meld, you will probably be destroyed." Tom was silent.

_Does Dumbledore know? _he said at last.

"Would it make a difference?" said Albus icily. "We both know that he doesn't see you as a person. If he knows, he knows, and if he doesn't, he won't give a flobberworm's ass if he ever finds out."

_But, Albus, you have to meld. That's what's supposed to happen. What if we're just putting off the inevitable?_

"Living is putting off the inevitable. Would you tell someone to jump off a cliff because they're going to die in the end anyways? Of course not! Live your life, Tom. I'm not going to stop you. I have enough blood on my hands now that I know the truth."

_But if it's inevitable- _

"... then you'll live a nice long life and die when the time comes. If its inevitable there's no use worrying about it. There are people who waste their lives away trying to keep living. Enjoy the time you have, and you'll be fine."

_That was weird, Albs. That was really, really weird._

"Why?" Albus asked. Tom burst out laughing.

_You are definitely not what anyone will be expecting!_

"What do you mean?" said Albus, exasperated, but Tom just laughed even harder.

_Merlin's boxers, if Dumbly could've heard you! _Tom said through his hooting. _You probably just changed fate right on its head!_

_**Um, yeah. My muse evidentially decided to be weird. Originally I was going to have Albus kill Hagrid, but about half-way through Albus just started writing himself. It led to Aragog's clearing and... well, you just read the chapter. Review if you want to. Heck, all you hav**_**e **_**say is "love" or "hate", as in you love or hate the chapter. I'm hoping to get 25 reviews total, even if I just get 6 "hate"s. So, yeah, until next week! :):):) **_


	17. Chapter 17: The Thestral Thread

_**There's not much to say about this chapter, just more theorizing on Dark Lord II. Tom's epic, Frank's Frank, and Albus has to tell Frank about thestrals. And stuff. Albus has thestral fetish. **_

"Frank! Hagrid!" Albus yelled when he'd finally found the path again. Hagrid came charging out of the woods, Frank to tow, and caught Albus up in a bone-crushing hug.

"Blimpy, Albus, I'd thought I'd lost yeh," Hagrid howled. "What were yeh thinkin', goin' off the path like that? Yer dad would've skinned me alive if anythin' had happened ter yeh."

"Hagrid... can't... breath," Albus choked out as best he could. Probably realizing Albus's father would skin him alive if he choked his son to death too, Hagrid released his death-grip on the boy. Albus collapsed on the ground and just lay there for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. Then, still gasping, Albus got shakily to his feet.

"Hagrid, I'm fine," he said.

"Yeh could of been killed!" Hagrid roared.

"I know," said Albus. "Look, I need to ask you a question. It's about the thestrals."

"What do yeh want to know about them fer?"

"I'm just curious," Albus said as innocently as he could. "Didn't you mention earlier that they've been disappearing?"

"All the time," Hagrid said. "They'll disappear, three or fo' at a time, then turn up a couple o' days later, stone dead. I don't know what ter make of it."

"Kedavera, Hagrid, how long has this been happening?"

"Oh, ev'ry week or so since the Sunday befo' school started. I remember because there was talk of closin' down, on account o' them Death Eaters escapin'." Albus looked around, pretending to be nervous.

"Hagrid, could we get out of here? This place gives me the creeps."

"Shore, Albus. I don't reckon we'll find anythin' now, what with the noise we've been makin'."

"What was that all about?" Frank asked later in the library.

"Tom, maybe you should explain," Albus said.

_No way! You were the one who got all ignited on me. I'm not trying to explain your crazy shit._

"I don't even get half of what happened in there!" Albus protested. "Besides, there's some... stuff in that you might want to leave out."

_Thanks, but I don't get the point of your thestral fetish any more than Frankie does._

"Fine," Albus said. "I'm not telling you guys everything, but the thestral disappearances are important, somehow."

"And how do you suddenly know this?" Frank asked, clearly skeptical.

"Can I pass on that one?"

_Ooo, pass the anchovies, please. _Both boys ignored Tom.

"Al, I'm not going to believe this thestral thing unless you tell me how you got it," Frank said.

"Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Albus! We. Are. A. Team! You can't hide stuff from me forever."

"You hid my true identity long enough!" For a moment Frank stared at Albus, openmouthed.

"What happened in there?" he said, this time with awe and disbelief in his voice.

"What do you mean?" said Albus, confused at the abrupt change in his friend's tone and manner.

"You- you've _changed_," Frank said. "You just admitted that you're Voldemort. Something must have happened in there, to convince you."

"Frank," said Albus softly, "a lot of things happened in the forest, some of which I am choosing not to tell you. Yes, I know I am really Voldemort now. I also know that the thestrals are important. _Please_ don't ask me to tell you everything. I'm not ready yet, and there are some secrets that are better kept hidden." Frank shook his head like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.

"I don't know, Al," he said slowly. "You might just be kidding yourself. Why haven't you melded if you've really accepted the truth?"

Albus was about to respond when, to his surprise, Tom piped up. _He won't meld because of me._

"What?" Frank said.

_You heard me. If we meld, I die._

"But..." Frank said weakly, soul caught in the painful struggle of one trying to find what is right in one thousand shades of grey.

_Frankie, don't present your opinion. This is Albs' choice and no one else's._

"But everything... fate..."

"Fate can go hang itself," Albus said icily. "If fate really wanted me to meld, it would force me to." Frank gestured helplessly, but Albus had already made up his mind, and there was no way he was going to budge on the issue.

_Now, we were talking about thestrals... _Tom said as if he were speaking to a couple of three-year-olds.

"Yes, we were," said Albus. "What do we know for sure?"

"Not much," said Frank. "Just that four thestrals disappeared the Sunday before school started-"

"Frank! That's it!" Albus yelled, earning a disapproving glare from Madam Pierce. Frank just looked confused.

"Um, what's it?"

"I remember reading a _Daily Prophet _that said three Death Eaters had escaped _Sunday morning_."

"Blimpy, do you reckon...?"

_Albus, this is making a twisted, convoluted sort of sense._

"It might be our new Dark Lord!" Albus said, excited. "Hagrid said four thestrals disappeared, and only three Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban."

"Who were they?" Frank asked warily, but he was obviously catching onto the excitement of his friend.

"There was Alecto Carrow, Lucius Malfoy, and Narcissa Malfoy..." Albus trailed off, openmouthed, then smacked himself on the forehead. "Malfoy! Do you reckon that Scorpius...?" To Albus's surprise Frank just snorted.

"Scorpius Malfoy? Are you serious?" he gasped out between bursts of laughter. "Albus, that kid couldn't tell one end of a broom from the other! Besides, do you really expect the new Dark Lord to be a first-year?"

"It makes sense," Albus grumbled. "Scorpius has a personal connection to two of the Death Eaters that escaped first."

_Yeah, but how do you expect an underage, untrained wizard kid to break into Hogwarts, steal some thestrals, and break people out of the most heavily guarded place ever?_

"I don't know," said Albus, annoyed that Tom was poking holes in his pet theory. "We can figure out the specifics later."

"Look, Al," Frank said, "its a good idea and all, the best we have right now, in fact. I just think you_ want_ Scorpius to be the new Dark Lord."

"Well, he _did _put that Tripping Charm on us. And he called you 'Longbutt'."

_You should just be thankful he didn't use a slightly more colorful synonym for butt._

"Albus, the stuff he did was mean and all but... you know, not super-evil Dark Lord material. With that to go on, you could call any run of the mill Muggle bully a 'Dark Lord'."

"But he had a personal connection to two of the Death Eaters who escaped," Albus insisted, not willing to admit that Frank was probably right.

_So does every other literal son of a Death Eater out there, not to mention the Death Eaters who never went to Azkaban._

"There are some who never went to Azkaban?" Frank said, surprised. Albus rolled his eyes.

"Not even my father could catch _all _of them," he said. "I've heard him complaining about it to Mum."

"But I thought..."

"That's what the Ministry wants you to think," said Albus, "but some are loose. A lot ran for it after I died. Some didn't have enough evidence to convict them. My father's not on Barty Crouch's level. He'd rather let them go free than start on what he calls 'a slippery slope'."

_What does that mean?_

"Apparently if he does one thing wrong the whole Ministry will go on moral decline. Mum's told me about that sort of thing happening in their time."

"But your dad'll have the information on all the suspected Death Eaters, won't he?" Frank said.

"Of course," Albus said. "It's up to date, too, because his office keeps a very close watch on them, just in case."

"You could ask your dad for the information we need at some point. Then we could see who could be a likely Dark Lord!"

"Frank, that is the worst idea I've ever heard!" Albus said, mouth gaping open at his friend's stupidity.

_Why? I think its pretty good._

"My father would never let us into his stuff!"

"It's worth at shot," said Frank. "The worst that can happen is that he'll say no." Albus was about to say that way worse things could happen when Tom cut in.

_Hey, its Christmas pretty soon. Why doesn't Alby ask his father then? _Frank smiled wolfishly.

"That's an excellent idea, Tom," he said.

"But- but how am I supposed to do this without telling him everything?" said Albus.

"Simple," said Frank. "Tell him its for a school project."

"He'll never believe that," Albus groaned.

_He might. The teachers around here can be pretty weird. _Seeing the look on Frank's face, Tom quickly added. _Longbutts exempted, of course. _Albus grinned at the sight of his friend trying not to explode.

"Relax, Frank," he said. "Tom means that as a term of endearment."

_Congrats, Frankie, you have now earned 600 holy-Kedavera-I'm-messed-up points. _

_**So, that's all for now! Next chapter Albus has to get reacquainted with his family. That should be interesting... Review, please! **_


	18. Chapter 18: Reacquaintance

_**Wow, this chapter was difficult. Darned almost-new characters, making this hard for me. Anyways, here's **__**Re-acquaintance**__**.**_

Though Albus secretly wished it wouldn't, Christmas came in due season, and with it the scary prospect of being in the general area of his family for the first time since before his dream. James had been easy to dodge, and with Lily and his mum he had only exchanged a few short letters. But it was his father who was really the cause of his dread, because Albus knew that the great Harry Potter wouldn't be placated by his apologies. No, his father would stop at nothing to root out the reason for Albus's lack of contact, and even though it usually didn't bother Albus much, this time he actually had something he'd prefer to keep hidden, and having to try and get some very important files from the man in question would not help matters. Overall, Albus was looking forward to a very tense and nerves-filled vacation.

_You'll just have to keep your trap shut. _was Tom's only advice on the subject, and Albus had to admit that there seemed no other strategy, though how he could do so and not end up grounded for life was beyond him. With those foreboding thoughts Albus stepped out onto platform nine and three-quarters and into the waiting arms of his mum.

For a moment Albus froze. His mum's loving embrace, so loving and natural, seemed an almost alien thing to him. For the past four months he had been entangled in the complications of being reborn; now, when confronted with something so normal, he hardly knew what to do with himself. Before he may have pulled away, embarrassed and afraid of being seen as young and immature. Now he simply stood there, afraid to accept the gesture, afraid to pull away.

"We missed you so much," his mum said, stepping back. "You must have grown two inches since September. We'll have to buy you new robes before Easter if you keep up at this rate."

"Hi, Mum," Albus said lamely just as his sister crashed into him like a freight train.

"Al, I missed you!" she said, hugging him fiercely around his middle.

"I missed you too, Lils," said Albus, struggling to regain his balance. "How's it going? How's Kreacher?"

"It's okay; it'll be better now that you're back," Lily said, green eyes gleaming. "Kreacher's been so busy helping Mum with the Christmas shopping he's having trouble doing the laundry."

"Well, we'll just have to find a way to help him then, won't we?"

"Or maybe _we _could help Mum with the shopping," Lily giggled. Albus laughed and tousled her hair. Then he turned to his father.

"Hey, Dad," Albus said.

"Hello, Albus," said his father. "Why haven't you written?" Albus shrugged.

"Oh, you know," he said, "busy." His father nodded sagely.

"The beginning of the first year's always the hardest."

"Though it might help that, thus far, no three-headed dogs have been spotted," drawled the voice of James. Albus's father's eyes narrowed in warning.

"Wow, James I didn't see you there," Albus said, laughing slightly, trying to dissolve the sudden tension. James' smirk dimmed a little when he realized that Albus wasn't going to rise to his bait.

"So, how are things in Gryffindor?" their father asked them. Albus felt his stomach drop. James, too, had the decency to look a bit awkward.

"They're, um, just fine," he said.

"Albus?" said their father.

_You'll have to tell them at some point. _said Tom. Albus took a deep breath.

"I'm no in Gryffindor," he said, the words feeling odd on his tongue. His father's eyebrows knit together.

"And what House _are_ you in?" he asked. Albus shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to see his family's reaction.

"Slytherin," he said. "I'm a Slytherin." For a moment it seemed as though the whole world had stopped. Then Albus felt the warm hand of his sister slip into his cold one.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she asked. Albus sheepishly opened his eyes and shrugged. Then he looked almost pleadingly at his father.

"We'll discuss this later," Albus's father said, looking almost disgustedly at his son. Behind their father's back, James gave Albus a sarcastic thumb's up. Albus raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"Come on, Albus," said Lily, glancing warily at their father. "It's cold out here. When we get home, can you help me put tinsel on the top of the tree?"

"I'll try, Lils," Albus said, "but you might want someone taller to help you with that."

"Maybe, but Al here can climb like a monkey," said James, who then scrunched up his face and scratched his armpits, making monkey noises.

"At least I'm on the right side of the law. You're the one who Wingardium Leviosa'd the tinsel up last year," Albus teased.

"Go eat a banana, Monkey Boy," James laughed. "I'm not the one who got caught half-way up the tree with tinsel in my mouth like a dog."

"At least I'm not in danger of being expelled every other week."

"Ho, look who's talking," said James. "You're the one in Dark Wizard training." Albus felt, for the first time, the old and familiar rush of anger and embarrassment.

"Oh, I don't know," he snapped. "I think I have about as much of a chance of going Dark as you do."

_Ha ha- Wait, that wasn't a joke?_

"Yeah, right," scoffed James. "Gryffindors are brave, Slytherins are just sneaky cowards, willing to do anything to save their own unworthy hides."

"Maybe some are. I'm not," Albus mumbled, finding it hard to form an intelligent argument.

"Then why would you be put in Slytherin?" James challenged. Albus's vision blurred with tears.

_Wow, Albs, you'd think that dealing with me 24/7 would help you not get so hot and bothered when your brother makes some dumb comments._

"Shut up!" Albus yelled at Tom. James jumped.

"Whoa, Al, I was just joking around," he said.

_Ignore me, Alby-walby. I'm just an annoying voice in your head, nothing to see here._

"I told you to shut up," Albus growled.

"Albus, what the Kedavra's going on?" said James just as Tom said _Meow! _

"Merlin's tighty whities, can't you guys just _be quiet_?" Albus screamed, his head beginning to spin from the weird conversation. James stared, open-mouthed.

"Al, what's happened to you?" he said.

"Nothing's happened," Albus grumbled, attempting to push past his brother, but James grabbed Albus's arm and spun the first year around to face him.

"Something's happened," James said.

"Its not like that," Albus protested.

"I am your older brother, Al. You can trust me," said James, tightening his grip on Albus's arm. "Honestly, I'm not going to judge you. I've seen it all."

_I seriously doubt that. _said Tom.

"James, you won't get this. You won't get _me_," Albus said pleadingly.

"At least give me a go."

"You'd hate me if you know what I've become!"

"If I had a Knut for every time I heard that line..."

_What is this guy, the Sarcastic Shrink? _

"James, just leave me alone," said Albus.

"You can't keep this all bottled up inside you, Albus."

"I've survived so far." James sighed and finally let go of Albus.

"Just think about it, okay?" he said. Albus nodded, shaking slightly, then James grinned impishly.

"Race you to the car!" he yelled, then shot off like a rocket.

"Hey, no fair!" Albus said, taking off after his brother.

_**Yeah, hopefully that was all right. Review please!**_


	19. Chapter 19: Midnight Encounter

_**Yay! Another chapter! In this we get more of Harry, I got a couple of questions about him. Hopefully this will clear it up a little.**_

James' words haunted Albus far into the night. 'You can't keep this all bottled up inside you, Albus.' Albus himself tossed and turned. The more he thought about it, the more his brother's simple statement seemed familiar, as if Albus had heard it somewhere before. _Somewhere_, but no matter how he thought it over he simply couldn't make sense of the deja vu the pervaded the sentence.

_Trouble, Albs? _Albus sighed.

"I'm just thinking about what James was saying back at the platform," he said.

_Thinking is one of the worst things you can do when you're trying to get some sleep. _Tom said. _Um, you _are _trying to get some sleep, right?_

"Sort of," Albus said. "It seems to be uphill work, though."

_Maybe you could make yourself some tea._

"What?"

_Hey, its what Voldy used to do when he wanted to relax. _Albus had to laugh at the picture that brought to mind, with the Dark Lord of his history textbooks sitting in a bathrobe, a pot of tea within easy reach.

"If I used it to relax then, I don't see why it wouldn't work now," Albus said. The first year grabbed his slippers and padded down to the kitchen. To his surprise there was already the flickering light of a fire streaming from the doorway. Albus cautiously approached the threshold and flung open the door, revealing the figure of his father hunched moodily in a strait-backed chair near the fire. Albus, startled, began to back away, but a floorboard creaked beneath his weight. Instantly the boy's father straightened.

"Who's there?" he said.

"Just me," Albus said, stepping into the firelight. His father relaxed slightly.

"Thought you might of been... well, that's not important now, is it? What are you up so late for?"

"I couldn't get to sleep, so I decided to make some tea," said Albus. "Why are _you _up so late?" His father shrugged.

"Late call at the Ministry. There's been another break out."

"Why got out?" Albus asked.

"Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle," his father said wearily. "They were long gone by the time I got there, of course. They always are. But this'll mean more quadruple shifts under the Hyperactivity Charm for sure."

"How many Dark wizards have escaped now, Dad?" said Albus.

"Forty-five, and none have been recaptured. Why are you so interested?"

"No reason," said Albus a little too quickly. His father's eyes narrowed and he sighed, shifting a little in his chair.

"Sit down," he said, and when Albus did so he continued. "We have to get a few things strait between us."

"Yeah," said Albus, "we do." His father flinched slightly at the challenge in Albus's voice, then he winced. "You're hurt," Albus said.

"It's nothing," said his father, but Albus plainly didn't believe him.

"Let me judge that," he said. His father opened his mouth to protest, but Albus grabbed his arm and all the Auror emitted was a hiss of pain. Albus studied the wound for several minutes. "Who did this to you?" he asked.

"Some of the guards were under the Imperius Curse," his father sighed, apparently resigned to Albus's questioning. "I managed to Disarm or Stun most of them before they could do any damage, but one shattered my Shield Charm. I'm just lucky it wasn't the Killing Curse."

"_We're _lucky it wasn't Avada Kedavera, Dad," said Albus absentmindedly, eyes and mind still focused on the curse wound.

"What do you mean, 'we'?" his father said, annoyed at being corrected. Albus looked up.

"The family," he said. "After all, we _do _care about you. We'd never _want _you to die."

"You shouldn't worry about me so much," Albus's father grumbled.

"Dad, you could get killed at any time, and it gets riskier out there by the minute. We have every right to worry!"

"I know what I'm doing! Albus, you're still young, too young to get involved with these things."

_I beg to differ..._

"You weren't much older when you saved the Philosopher's Stone!" said Albus, ignoring Tom.

"I was stupid, I didn't know what I would lose! Albus, please, you're still a child."

"I'm not just a kid, Dad! You can trust me!"

"It's not a matter of trust-"

"Then what is it?" Albus's rage propelled him to his feet, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to hug his father or punch him.

"I... you..." his father stammered. "You're too young!"

_Uh, what? Is that a joke? Should I laugh? Curtsy?_

"You're joking, right?" said Albus acidly. "The great Harry Potter, Boy Wonder, telling his own son that he's _too young_."

"Albus, you may think you want this-"

"What I want to know is why you go out there and risk your neck every single day!"

"Please, just _listen_ for a minute-"

"No, _you _listen, Dad. Why is it worth it? How can you be so... so _inconsiderate_?"

"How the hell am _I _inconsiderate?"

"We never know if we'll ever see you alive again! I want to know you, before its too late. I want to know, I want to _help_!"

"Albus, I am _protecting you. _Why can't you just have a normal childhood, without worrying about these things?"

"Because, like it or not, Dad, I'm not a kid anymore. You can't shelter me forever." To Albus's surprise his father didn't argue further, but leaned back in his chair. Suddenly it struck Albus just how old and weary his father looked at the moment. Worry lines creased at his brow, though he was only thirty-six, and everything about him seemed bent with the weight of responsibility that the man was forced to carry.

"Dad," Albus said softly, "are you okay?" His father smiled kindly but wearily.

"Just tired," he said. "Everything seems to be so chaotic at the Ministry lately that I'm lucky to get two hours of sleep a night."

"Then you should be sleeping, not arguing with me," said Albus. His father shook his head.

"I'm on call," he said. "Arguing with my son, who really should be sleeping himself, is as good a way as any to pass the time." Albus's jaw dropped.

"But you're injured!"

"We're short-handed right now, Al. I have to do everything I can to help round those Death Eaters up."

"At this rate you'll wreak yourself," Albus muttered.

"If that's what it takes..."

_Workaholic._

"I agree," said Albus, both to Tom and to his father. His father shot a questioning glance Albus's way.

"Now that's the last thing I expected from you," he said. Albus turned, fully facing his father.

"I've grown up a lot since September first," the boy said.

"Unfortunately," his father grunted.

"Sometimes I feel that way too," Albus admitted, "but I know certain things now that I never could've found out if I'd stayed the way I was."

"Like what?"

"Dad, I don't think people are randomly escaping Azkaban. They must have outside help, like a new Dark Lord or something." Albus's father frowned.

"I wouldn't toss around the phrase 'Dark Lord' if I were you," he said.

"Just hear me out," said Albus, and when his father nodded he continued. "The Sunday before school started, three Death Eaters escaped Azkaban. On the same day, _four _thestrals were stolen from the Hogwarts grounds. Suspicious, at the very least, but it gets full-blown creepy when you realize that the Death Eaters have escaped every week or so, with the thestral disappearances following that exact pattern. Plus..." Albus got a brainwave. "Plus, you said that some of the Azkaban guards were under the Imperious Curse, but the prisoners didn't have wands."

"The evidence is reasonably solid," Albus's father said, stroking his stubble-covered chin. "But, then again, we've suspected outside involvement from the beginning. The real question is who's been helping the former Death Eaters escape."

"I actually have a theory on that, too," said Albus. "You know how two of the first Death Eaters to escape were Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy?"

"You suspect a connection then?"

"Well, yeah," Albus said sheepishly. His father opened his mouth as though to speak, then closed it decidedly.

"We shouldn't be discussing these sort of things," he said. Albus felt as though he had been stabbed.

"Dad," he said, "why?"

"Because none of this will matter to you in the long run. It will just be a small event you'll barely remember in a few years."

_Heh, heh. No way. _

"At least I'm understanding everything better. At least you were _letting _me try and understand."

"That's not the point, Albus."

"Then what is it?"

"The point is that at the end of the day none of those Death Eaters are going to touch you."

"You can't pretend this doesn't affect us!"

"I'm not going to let them get you, Al. That's what I'm here for."

"To be what, a human shield?"

"If that's what it takes to keep everyone safe, then yes!" Albus took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Dad," he said, "you can't save everyone by yourself."

"I also can't put you in any more danger than you're already in," said his father.

"Why are you so determined to shelter me forever?" His father sighed, and Albus could feel the man's final wall crumble.

"Because I've seen what the Death Eaters can do," he said, his eyes empty and haunted. "I know how fast a good, moral person can be destroyed. I've seen kids, younger than you, younger than Lily, caught in the deadly crossfire of a war they don't even understand. I swore after Voldemort died that I'd round up every single person who'd ever even _thought _about supporting him, because I'd be damned before I'd let my children live in a world like the one I'd lived in, to be forced to grow up like I had to."

"Dad, something big's happening out there, and it won't stop to wait for us."

"I know Albus, but I can't let it shape you. I can't let you fight this-"

"If we're not fighting, we're losing. This'll be war, maybe even worse than before."

"Nobody can be sure of that."

"The most dangerous Death Eaters suddenly getting loose? An elusive Dark Lord helping them? Dad, this is serious."

"It's none of your concern!" Albus's father roared.

"I know that you want to protect me," Albus hissed, "but Frank and I will get to the bottom of this whether you want us to or not!"

"Albus, you have no idea what you'll lose!" Albus stood and walked calmly away. As he reached the exit Albus half-turned back toward his father.

"Yes, I do," the boy said. "I've already lost it." Then Albus firmly closed the door, trying to forget the look on his father's face as he had said those simple words.

_Wow. _said Tom. _You just screwed any chance we had of getting those files. Congrats._

_**Well, that's that. I hope Harry's okay and not too OOC for you. I was trying to base his character on what I could see him becoming, but its only my opinion. I basically based him around this one line in the epilogue where Albus asks why everyone's staring at Harry. Funnily enough, I left that line out of my chapter about King's Cross because it didn't work for the character of Albus I had created. Goodbye until the next chapter, and remember to review! **_


	20. Chapter 20: Christmas

**_Hello again! More Harry and Tom being obsessive in this chap. Also, Rose! For some strange reason I love writing her._**

Over the next few days neither Albus nor his father made any indication to the other that their late-night argument had ever happened. In fact, Albus couldn't help but suspect that his father had forgotten all about it, which would be convenient, to say the least. But however well his father may have forgotten the incident, it had a lasting impact on Albus, and his dreams about Death, which had recently become less frequent and vivid, had begun to come nightly again, more graphic and and horrible that before. For one, Albus had now realized that the formerly dirt trail was really made of bones, human bones. He had no idea how he could have could have overlooked the fact before, but nevertheless the bones were there, a road to Albus's nightly meeting with Death. One night, however, he had only begun his fight when he was woken by Tom yelling.

_Oh my Merlin, Albs! Wake up now!_

"What?" Albus said sleepily.

_IT'S CHRISTMAS! PRESENT TIME!_

"Kedavra, Tom, we have all day. Stop acting like a three-year-old girl."

_I can't help it! You never got presents in your other life, so this is a first for me!_ Albus almost grinned at his friend's enthusiasm, despite his annoyance at being woken up so early in the morning.

"I doubt that the rest of the family is even up yet," he said. "Your present obsession will have to wait."

_Come on! Its only, like, six a.m._ Albus yawned.

"We don't open presents until the rest of the family arrives for dinner," said Albus. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to sleep."

_Alby,_ Tom whined, _I want to open presents now. _

"Well, too bad for you," said Albus grouchily. "Wake me up in a couple of hours."

_Come on!_ Tom said again, but Albus had already fallen back to sleep. His rest was short, however, because exactly two hours later he was awoken by Tom obnoxiously impersonating an alarm clock. Albus blearily looked at his real alarm clock, then rolled onto his back, groaning.

"Why couldn't you have waited longer?" he said.

_I can't help it! Life gets so boring when you're asleep, and its Christmas!_

"So I've heard," Albus said, half considering going back to sleep again. But, in the end, Albus rolled out of bed and, after finding a clean pair of socks, sluggishly made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where the rest of his family was conversing over cups of tea. As Albus entered they fell silent.

"Hi, Albus," Lily said, blissfully unaware of the awkwardness that hung in the air.

"'Lo, Lils," Albus mumbled, sitting down next to his little sister.

"Albus, guess what?" Lily said, then, not waiting for Albus's guess, she continued. "Teddy's coming over early to help get ready!"

"That's great," said Albus, forcing a smile. Then their father cleared his throat.

"Albus, I, er, have to discuss something with you," he said. Albus tensed and Lily grabbed his hand under the table. "Privately." Well, that was good.

"Sure, Dad," said Albus, untangling his hand from Lily's grip. Standing, he allowed himself to be led by his father into a small room off the main hallway. When inside, Albus's father carefully closed and locked the door.

"Albus," he said, a little awkwardly, "when everyone comes over, later on, would you mind not mentioning the, er, results of your Sorting?"

"Why?" Albus said, though he already knew the reason.

"Well," said his father, not quite meeting his eyes, "it would be rather... awkward. Generations of Gryffindors on your mum's side, you see, and you being a Slytherin would be a nasty thing to spring on them at Christmas."

"You said it wouldn't matter," said Albus bitterly.

"It doesn't to me, Al, nor to your mum, but to the others-"

"If it doesn't matter why have you been avoiding it all vacation. I know you were talking about me; when I came in you stopped."

Albus's father took a deep breath. "If you're going to break tradition like that, expect it to take a while for people to be used to the idea."

"Do you think I asked for this?" Albus said.

"What else would explain my son becoming a Slytherin?"

_Voldemort good enough for you?_

"Dad, I didn't want this to happen, but the Sorting Hat said he didn't have a choice. He said-"

"I don't care what it said!" his father almost yelled. "Now that you're a Slytherin, how can we be sure that you'll turn out all right-"

"We're not all Death Eaters here-"

"You'll use any means to achieve your ends! You're dangerous!"

"I'd say more like determined. The end doesn't necessarily have to be evil."

_Alby: 1, Daddy:0_

"But the means, Albus, the means! There's no line a Slytherin won't cross!"

"I have a line, Dad-"

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know; I haven't reached it yet."

"Albus, you have to define that line _now_. If you don't, you might pass it without even noticing."

_That's what happened in your last life. _

"What do you mean?" Albus said, forgetting for the moment that nobody could hear Tom but himself.

"What do you mean 'what do you mean'?" his father said, but Albus's attention was firmly on Tom.

_Well, Voldemort,_ you_, wanted to lift wizard-kind up from under the oppression of Muggles. Done right, it could have been a noble goal. But the path to darkness is easy to get on. What started with an indulgent _  
_"vengeance killing" slowly turned into outright genocide, and he was always able to justify it all to himself, always able to tell himself that he hadn't quite reached that line, not yet. _

"Albus are you alright?" his father said. Albus shook himself, putting aside the ominous feelings that Tom's words brought to him.

"Yeah," he said, "just thinking." He must have sounded odd, because Albus's father gave him a slightly worried glance.

"Well, okay," his father said reluctantly. "But if you have any problems, you shouldn't be afraid to tell me. I'll always be here for you when you need me." Albus felt as though his heart was being squeezed by invisible hands, and he had to look away to keep from sobbing.

"Dad, what I said the the other night-" Albus began, but his father gently put a hand over his mouth.

"Forget it, Albus. We were both upset."

"But-"

"I said forget it." Then, to Albus's surprise, his father embraced him tightly. "I'm sorry," said his father. "I just want you to be safe."

"Why does it all have to happen at one, Dad?" Albus said, burying his face in his father's sweater. "Why does it have to _hurt_ so much?"

"I don't know, Al," his father said. "I'm so, so sorry." They stood there for a while, father and son, and Albus desperately wanted to break down, to tell his father everything.

_You can't._ Tom said. _You know what's at stake if you misjudge. He could panic and lock you up or even kill you._ Though he hated to admit it, Albus knew that Tom was right. His father was too powerful, both magically and politically, to risk the secret of his true identity. So Albus reluctantly pulled away from his father.

"Dad," he said, "I know you want to protect me, but what I said a couple of nights ago is true. A new Dark Lord is rising, and letting me and Frank see your files on suspected Death Eaters would make everything so much easier." Albus looked away so he wouldn't have to see the hurt in his father's eyes.  
It was, he knew, necessary.

"Albus, haven't I taught you anything?" his father said. "Don't grow up too soon. Leave the Dark Wizard catching to me, please."

"I have to do this, Dad."

"I won't be responsible for you destroying yourself!"

"You of all people should understand why this is necessary!" Albus seethed with frustration.

"It may be necessary, but not for you, not yet."

"Your department won't take the word of a first year seriously. By the time they do, it might already be too late." Albus's father took a breath in to argue, then he let it out, diminished.

"You might be right, Albus," he said quietly. "This might be the path you have to take. But please don't ask me to help you. I can't." With that Albus's father walked out of the room, shoulders visibly slumping. Albus numbly followed him a few moments later. When he reentered the kitchen, Lily jumped up and ran to him.

"Was Daddy mad?" she asked, bright green eyes wide. Albus shook his head, smiling slightly.

"Course not, Lils. He just doesn't want me to mention that I'm a Slytherin to the rest of the family."

"Oh," said Lily, then she instantly brightened. "Want to see what Kreacher's making for dinner?"

"Sure," Albus said, so Lily pulled him over to where Kreacher was cooking and muttering madly to himself.

"Yes, yes... turkeys and ham... French onion soup... and the treacle tarts, for Master..."

"Hey, Kreacher," said Albus. Kreacher jumped, then bowed hastily to both Albus and Lily.

"Kreacher did not hear Master Albus and Mistress Lily come in," Kreacher croaked.

"What are you making?" Lily asked.

"Kreacher is making steak and kidney pie. Soon he will begin the tarts." Kreacher bustled back and forth as he said this, until Albus had to catch some vegetables that fell from Kreacher's over-full arms.

"Here, I'll cut the veggies," he said.

"But, Master-"

"Come on, there's no way you'll be able to finish all this in time. Besides, Ted's coming over to help out soon, too." Kreacher reluctantly nodded, and began to prepare the steak and kidney pie as Albus set to work cutting the vegetables. Lily went from Albus to Kreacher, trying to help but only making their work harder, until Albus suggested that she go out to wait for Ted. But the companionable silence was short-lived, for no sooner had Albus returned to his task than Tom spoke.

_Thought any more about what your daddy said?_ he asked.

"Not really," said Albus, who had honestly been trying to oust the confusing conversation from his mind.

_You should, Albs._

"Why so serious?"

_Hey, I can go back to sarcasm any time you want._

"Spare me that fate!" Albus said, only half joking. Tom chuckled darkly.

_But, seriously, your father had a point. Where is your line?_

"Where's yours?" Albus retorted.

_Coco Puffs._

"What the Merlin-"

_I won't harm anything greater than a Coco Puff._

"So, basically, you're a pacifist."

_No, I'm very capable of harming a brussel sprout._

"Weirdness aside, when did you decide that?"

_When I began to take Dumbles seriously._

"Why would you do that?" Tom sighed.

_As jerkwadish as he is, Dumbly had a point when he said I was dangerous. So I decided to make sure I didn't do anything in real life that i thought I did in my so-called memories._

"How are we supposed to defeat the new Dark Lord if we can't do anything to him?"

_Hey, its my choice, not yours. I doubt that he'll listen to a please._ Albus was about to agree when Lily ran into the room, pulling Ted behind her.

"Al! Al!" she said. "Teddy's here!"

"I noticed," said Albus drily, wiping blood from the finger he'd nearly severed when Lily had startled him.

"Hey, Al," said Ted, hair blue today.

"Hi, Ted," said Albus. "What's up with you and Victoire?" Ted's hair turned as red as his face.

"Y-you know about that?" he stammered. Albus rolled his eyes.

"Tip, don't snog her in front of James if you want to keep it a secret."

_I'll keep that in mind if I ever have the urge to take you over in order to snog someone._ Albus very nearly made a disgusted face, stopping only by reminding himself that it would look odd to the others if he did so.

"Whatever, we can't keep it an the down-low much longer," said Ted. "We're engaged already, and I hope to get married this summer, after Victoire finishes school. I already have a job and a house, so I figured why wait." Lily clapped her hands, delighted.

"Ooo, can I be a bridesmaid?" she said. Albus and Ted looked at each other and grinned.

"Victoire'll have to answer that," said Ted, then he turned to Albus. "How can I help out?"

"Would you mind checking the turkeys?" Albus said, attention back on the vegetables.

"Sure thing, Al," said ted. For the next few hours the elf and two wizards toiled, but by one in the afternoon they were done, and the dining room table was set. The entire family was waiting in the sitting room when Kreacher announced dinner in his bullfrog voice. They gradually made their way into the room.

"Merlin's boxers, he outdid himself this year," said Albus's uncle, Ron, with an appreciative look at the spread.

"_Ron!_" his aunt, Hermione, admonished. There was a mad scramble for the seats, and in the end Albus found himself wedged between Rose and another one of his cousins, Dominique.

"Hi, Rose," he said. Rose took one glance at him then sniffed, tuning her back. "Oh, come on, Rose, don't be mad."

"I shouldn't talk to you, you're a Slytherin," she spat out.

"I didn't ask for this," Albus said, irritated.

"You always seemed nice, Potter. What _did_ you do?"

"I didn't do anything. I just got put there."

"Then you were a bad egg all along."

"We're not all Death Eaters, Rose."

"Prove it," she snapped, then began to have a loud conversation with James. Feeling totally alone, Albus concentrated on mutilating a slice of turkey.

"Are you really a Slytherin?" Dominique asked.

"What do you think?" growled Albus.

"I think you might be a Slytherin, but you're alright. A House can't change that." Albus stared at his cousin.

"You really think so?" Dominique nodded, and Albus's spirits momentarily lifted. Then he remembered Rose. "Try telling that to her," he grumbled.

"You can't control other people's opinions of you, only your reactions to them," Dominique said. "Just like you couldn't control the House you got into, only what you _did_ in that House."

"Thanks, Dom," Albus said softly. Dominique shrugged.

"I was disappointed when I got into Ravenclaw," he said. "I can only imagine how frightening it was to be put in Slytherin."

"You don't know half of it," muttered Albus. Dominique smiled.

"As you said, you're not _all_ Death Eaters." Albus managed to smile back.

"Thanks," he said again.

"What did I do?" Dominique asked, genuinely clueless about how he had managed to restore Albus's spirits. Albus just rolled his eyes and chuckled slightly.

_Hey, Albs, what do you call a reformed Death Eater?_ Tom said. Albus groaned.

"I don't know," he murmered. "What _do_ you call a reformed Death Eater?"

_A Life Barfer!_ Amid the general merriment, very few people found Albus's laughter odd.

_**So, yeah, that's it. I hope you like Dominique, he's Bill and Fleur's son and I think he's pretty cool. Review!**_


	21. Chapter 21: Uprooted

_**Hey, peoples! I finally went to see the new Spiderman movie. It was pretty good. Anyways, here's chapter 21.  
**__  
"_Hello, Scorpius," said Albus, sliding awkwardly into about the only space left at the Slytherin breakfast table. Tho blond boy looked at him.

"Since when are we on first name terms?" he said snidely. Albus shrugged.

"Since I decided that these pancakes need more syrup," he said, eying his food critically and adding an overly generous amount of the syrup in question. Scorpius looked faintly nauseated. "Want some?" Albus asked. Scorpius shook his head.

"What does syrup have to do with my first name?" he said.

"Anything I want it to," said Albus cheerfully. Scorpius looked confused. "The syrup is just a tool," Albus explained. "You asked a question, so I used whatever I had to give you an answer. The syrup doesn't really mean anything. I just incorporated it into my answer. Are you sure you don't want some?"

"Yes," said Scorpius. "Syrup's disgusting."

"Do you think so?" Scorpius nodded. "Then we'll get along just fine. There's nothing quite as interesting as a friend who disagrees with you."

"Since when have I been your friend?"

"Since I decided that hating you took too much energy," said Albus. "Also, I thought that I should have at least one friend in my House, and with you we've already broken the ice."

"Yeah, with mutual hatred."

"Hate is a strong word," said Albus. "And, besides, that's just something we have in common!" Scorpius almost laughed. Almost.

"My father says that we should just keep our heads down. I think being your friend wouldn't be doing that."

"And why should that matter?" Albus said, his mouth full of pancake.

"Its sort of... well...," Scorpius muttered, before finally saying, "I'm a Malfoy."

"So what?" Scorpius stared at Albus, confused.

"What were you, born in a cave? My family's a disgrace!"

"Your family, maybe, but you don't seem too bad," Albus said, licking the excess syrup from his fingers.

"I come from a legacy of Death Eaters."

"Doesn't mean a thing."

"I might as well be destined to go bad."

"If you consider it bad, then why go to it?" Albus asked. Scorpius had no answer to that. "Anyways," Albus said, "do you want to come study with me in the library after classes are done?"

"It's the first day of term!" Scorpius cried out in dismay. Albus grinned.

"I say studying in the loosest sense of the term. Mostly me and Frank just hang out." Suddenly Albus stopped grinning. "We actually have something serious to talk about this time."  
"What is it?" asked Scorpius curiously. Albus hesitated.  
"It... would be better if both Frank and I explained," he said.  
"Come on, at least give me a hint," Scorpius whined. Albus took a deep breath, steadying himself. _You shouldn't trust him. _Tom said. Albus was annoyed; he know that already, but he also knew that he didn't want everyone to be caught off-guard be the new Dark Lord. He'd let this be his gamble, to see if there was anyone willing to listen.  
"Its about the escaped Death Eaters, and the new Dark Lord who's probably breaking them out," said Albus. Scorpius stiffened.  
"I'll be there," he said, then quickly stood up and ran away.

"Who'd you invite?" Frank muttered to Albus, clearly still nervous about the idea despite the fact the he had first proposed it.

"Scorpius Malfoy," said Albus. Frank's mouth fell open.

"Malfoy! You think he's the Dark Lord, why would you-"

"Hey, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? Besides, didn't you and Tom blow a million holes in that theory?"

_True. _Frank was still seething, but he didn't protest anymore, on account of the fact that Scorpius had just entered the library. Spotting Frank and Albus, he waved and ran toward them.

"Hey, guys. Did I miss anything?" he said, sitting down.

"No," said Frank coolly. Albus glared at his friend. This wasn't going to work if they couldn't get along.

"Albus, you said that this was about the new Dark Lord and the escaped Death Eaters?" Scorpius said, obviously curious.

"So you believe in this new Dark Lord?" said Frank, skeptical of Scorpius's apparent conviction.

"Of course I do! My father's Dark Mark has been getting clearer for years, and at the beginning of the school year it burned. Voldemort has returned."

"He's not who we're talking about. There's a new Lord in town," Albus said, annoyed and frightened by the turn the conversation had suddenly taken.

"No, its Voldemort, I'm certain, and so is my father. That's why we started-" Scorpius stopped; he had obviously said too much.

"What did you start?" Frank asked.

"Nothing," mumbled Scorpius.

"You are_ such _a terrible lier," Frank said acidly. Scorpius blushed and looked down at the floor. Frank let out a sharp bark of laughter.

Albus thought this had gone on long enough. "Frank, stop it, we won't get him to trust us by being like that," Albus snapped, then he turned to Scorpius, his voice gentler now. "We know that its not Voldemort, Scorpius."

"How can you be so sure when everything says that he's back?"

"Because I'm Voldemort," Albus said. The blood drained from Scorpius's face, his eyes were wide with horror and fear.

"Y- you," he whispered, pressing himself into the chair as if he wished to fall strait through it. Albus rolled his eyes.

"Yes, me," he said, "but I'm not the Dark Lord anymore. Someone else is, and that someone else is probably stealing the thestrals and using them to break the former Death Eaters out of Azkaban."

"But... Voldemort died... this is impossible," said Scorpius.

"Oh, shut up," said Frank. "You were prepared to believe that he was alive because of your dad's Dark Mark, is it so much of a stretch to believe he's Albus?"

"It _should _be impossible," Scorpius muttered.

_Hey Scorpy, what's up? _said Tom casually.

"HOLY IMPS!" Scorpius screamed, making both Albus and Frank giggle.

_Um, I'm not an imp. I could pretend to be one, though. Be the imp... be the imp..._

"That's just Tom," said Albus. "He's a voice in my head. He's kind of crazy."

"He's not the only one," Scorpius grumbled.

_Hey, Alby, you forgot to tell Scorpy that I'm also your memories, a Dumbledore hater, and Death incarnate._

"Seriously?" said Scorpius, thrown by the "Death incarnate" bit.

_Well, no, but the first two are true._

"Don't even get him started on Dumbledore," Frank advised. "It will save you a lot of pain and suffering."

_But getting me started on him will save you the pain and suffering of actually meeting him..._

"Guys, this discussion is getting really off topic," said Albus.

"Yeah, but you can't deny that its funny," Scorpius said. "What were we talking about again?"

"How I'm Voldemort and what you and your father started," said Albus.

"What _did _you and your dad start?" Frank asked. Scorpius hesitated.

"I could get in a lot of trouble, and my father could go to Azkaban," he said.

_We all could. You'll have to risk it, just like we are. Just come right out and say it._

_"_You can't argue with that," Albus agreed.

"I should keep silent," Scorpius muttered, "but I can't. This secret is eating me alive."

"You can trust us, Scorpius," said Albus encouragingly. Frank gave a curt nod. Scorpius hesitated again, but then he took a deep breath.

"My father an I've been the ones breaking out the Death Eaters." Frank swore violently, but Albus just nodded.

"Explain," he said tersely.

"Well, at first it was a lark, to break out Grandfather and Grandmother. That old witch Alecto just tagged along. But then my father's Dark Mark burned. He knew Voldemort, well, you now, Albus, was back, and he wouldn't be happy with what my father had been doing since the second war. So we've been breaking out old Death Eaters ever since, so that we can either fight or gain favor. But now that I know you're Voldemort I suppose that all our efforts were rather backwards." But Albus shook his head, the seed of an idea beginning to take root in his mind.

"Scorpius," Albus said, "do you think that the rouge Death Eaters will still be loyal to me, when they learn who I am, I mean?"

"I don't know," Scorpius said. "I suppose they might be." Albus smiled devilishly.

"Good," he said. "We'll be needing some allies." Frank's mouth dropped open.

"Albus, are you _crazy_?" he yelled.

"We'll need allies," Albus repeated. "The new Dark Lord may have had years to raise an army."

"But they're _evil_!"

_Don't throw the E-word around here, Frankie, it's insensitive. _

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" said Albus.

"That you're a Slytherin dumbass," sniffed a voice behind him.

"Rose," Albus groaned, recognising his cousin's voice, "what are you doing here?"

"Research for potions," said Rose haughtily, "Which you should be doing, Potter, instead of giggling with your little pureblood friends."

"Rose, that paper's not due for a week," Albus said, secretly pretending that everything was normal between him and Rose. Unfortunately, Rose promptly shattered that illusion.

"A week isn't long enough for you, Slytherin slime," Rose sneered.

"Hey, I'm not a Slytherin," Frank objected.

"You might as well be. A traitor's as bad as a Slytherin in my book." Frank blushed.

"I'm not a traitor," he muttered.

"Oh, of _course _you're not," said Rose, cuttingly sarcastic. "After all, you're _only _talking with the enemy."

_Yeah, well, so are you, Miss Smarty-Pants._

"You are too," said Albus, thankful for Tom coming up ith the comeback.

_You're welcome. _Tom said.

"Watch your tongue, Potter," Rose snapped. "Someday you'll find that somebody has finally gotten smart and cleansed the world of your filth. Now, I'll be going to Gobstones Club, hopefully to destroy some scum while I'm at it." On that happy note, Albus's cousin gave them one last glower and stomped off.

"I'll show her," Frank muttered angrily. "Calling _me _a Slytherin. She won't get away with that."

"Calm down, Frank," Albus said. "She's just upset."

"Is she always that scary?" Scorpius said, looking nervously toward the direction to which Rose had gone.

"Nah, she's okay once you get to know her," said Albus slightly unconvincingly. "She has very anti-Slytherin views, but she'll do the right thing in the end."

"She still scares me," said Scorpius, then he looked at his watch and yelped. "Blimpy, guys, I've got to run!Rose was right, Gobstones Club's in twenty minutes."

It was almost eight by the time Albus got back to the Slytherin common room, so he expected to find Scorpius there, chatting or reading or doing his homework. To he surprise Scorpius wasn't there, but another member of the Gobstones Club, Amos Lee, was, so Albus approached the other boy.

"Hey, Lee, have you seen Scorpius?" he asked. The black boy looked up from his _Evening Prophet. _

"Malfoy? I haven't seen him since supper," he said. Albus's stomach twisted.

"You mean he didn't go to Gobstones Club?" Albus said.

"Yeah," Lee said, confused by the urgency in the other's voice. "I thought it was a little weird. He usually doesn't miss a meeting."

"Lee, where do you have the club?" Albus said.

"In the old transfiguration classroom. Why?" But Albus had already left, exiting the common room and bolting towards the old transfiguration classroom. He didn't know what he was expecting when he got there, only that he was almost certain that something horrible had happened to his friend. He flung open the door to find... nothing. Frustrated, Albus forced himself to think.

"He never got here!" Albus said out loud, suddenly enlightened. With a new burst of energy, Albus raced down the hall that would eventually lead to the library, throwing doors open indiscriminately, until he reached a broom cupboard that was locked.

"Alahamoria!" he yelled, and the lock clicked, leaving the door able to be opened. Albus tore open the door to find himself face to face with the dead body of Scorpius Malfoy. Albus yelled and reeled backwards in shock and horror. There was his friend, unmarked, yet undeniably dead, eyes blank and empty, mouth gaping open as though surprised.

Albus closed his eyes against the gruesome spectacle, yet that did not stop the bile rising in his throat or the horrible sense of deja vu that grew greater every moment. That face, that dead, unmarked face, it could have belonged to any number of nameless persons. Albus may have killed him, or one of his disciples, following orders. It didn't matter. It was all blook, blood rising, threatening to drown him, because it was his fault, all his fault. _You killed us, _it hissed. _You destroyed us. You changed the course of the world, you demolished our lives._

"No," groaned Albus. "No, it wasn't me! I didn't want this!"

_Lier! _the blood yelled. _Theif of destinies! Killer of the future!_

"Please," cried Albus, falling to the ground under the tidal waves of hatred that crashed down on him. "Please! I'm innocent!"

_We were innocents, too, but you, you destroyed us! Killer! _

"I'm not him anymore!" Albus was curled in a ball now, shivering with pain.

_You cannot escape him, you are too far in now! You can never erase us!_

"I know," said Albus, tears running down his face. "I'm not Albus anymore. I've killed, so I can kill. There is no line between us anymore, though I refuse to meld. I'll always be guilty."

_Yes, yes. Accept the guilt. Our blood is on your hands._

"Yes," Albus whispered as the waves receaded. "Yes it is."

**_Wow, that got a little random. Talking blood, yay! Review!_**

aste your document here...


	22. Chapter 22: Just Like Last Time

**_Yay! I actually got this in on time this week! Sorry about that delay last chapter, I've been swamped with school. Anyways, here _****_Just Like Last Time_****_. Yes, that does sound a little scary._**

Albus would never know how he managed to drag himself away from the broom closet and find Professor Flitwick. The resdt of that day an, indeed, the days after were a blur of numbness and sudden flashes when the pain of it all suddenly hit him. Scorpius... Scorpius was dead. Most of the time Alubs couldn't believe it was true. It seemed as though he _couldn't _be dead, that it was all just a nightmare. Their friendship had only just begun. Scorpius had been the only other person, besides Frank and Tom, to know Albus's true identity, and now that he was gone Albus was lonely and hopeless.

The only way Albus made it through was by burying it all. He managed to convince himself it didn't matter, that their friendship of a few hours hadn't had such a profound impact on him. But it had, and even as he denyed it he knew it was no use. At night Albus would have horrible nightmares where Scorpius was killed by the cloaked figure of Death. Alubs would race foreward, enraged, and tackle Death to the ground, but when its hood fell back Albus would recoil. His own face grinned wickedly back at him. Then Albus would wake up, screaming, before telling himself it was just a dream.

Secretly, Albus wished he would have another dream with Dumbledore, because then he might be able to see Scorpius again. After all, both were dead. Albus toyed with this idea for a while, and finally decided to talk to Tom about it.

"Tom," he whispered late one night.

_It speaks! Man, Albs, what's been going on? _

"Nothing, nothing," said Albus, the truthful lie sounding unconvincing, even to him.

_Screaming in the middle of the night is nothing? I must have missed that memo. _

"I guess I've had a couple of nightmares," Albus admitted, "but it doesn't matter really."

_You're trying to deal with Scorpie dieing, aren't you? _

"Am not!"

_Yep, that's what I thought. You want me to tell Dumbly so you can see your friend again. _

"H-how did you know?"

_Personal experiance. _

"Do you ever get used to it? I mean... does losing people get easier, over time?"

_Before, you became numb to it. You didn't care anymore. Just be glad you can feel the pain at all. _

"Why should I? It... it hurts. So much."

_Caring goes both ways. Happyness and sadness. Good and evil. Light and dark. You'll feel crumby for a while, but you have to be able to or you can never feel really happy. _

"It feels like I'll never be happy again."

_It _will _pass. _

"Maybe I don't want it to."

_Scorpius wouldn't want you to be miserable. _

"I barely even knew him!"

_Does that make a difference? You were friends. Friends want each other to be happy. Go ahead, feel it. Grieve, then let it fade. _

"I still want to see him again."

_We all want more time with the people we care for after they die, but at a certain point you have to accept that he's not coming back. Do you want to waste your time on impossibilities? What has happened has happened. You can't change that. Concentrate on the future, on what you _can _change._

"Maybe you're right," Albus said grudgedly.

_I'm always right. _

"Wow, that was modest."

_No, it wasn't, but it was true. _Albus grinned slightly, then realized what he had just done. He groaned and held his head in his hands.

"I'm forgetting him," he said.

_No, you're healing, and you can't stop it any more than I can stop you from guilt-tripping about it. _

"Oh, ha ha. You're a riot, Tom. You should have your own bloody show."

_A bloody show? Cool! _

"You know what I mean."

_Yeah, but that_ _won't stop me. _

"Shut up, Tom, or I'll punch you."

_I don't have a body. _

"Yeah, but that won't stop me," said Albus, smiling dangerously.

_That comeback is not applicable. _

"You're not applicable."

_True enough. _

"Huh?" Tom sighed.

_Do you even know what not applicable means? _

"Not really."

_Me neither, actually. _

"Then you have no business using the phrase."

_Neither do you. _Tom pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you started it."

_Touche. _

"Shut up."

_Hey, that's not French! _

"Neither is that."

_Not my fault that I don't know much French. _Albus sighed. The mindless banter kept his mind busy for a while, but he knew that he had to face his emotions eventually.

"I have to choose, don't I?" he said.

_You have a choice. _

"I can either accept everything and move on, or I can be miserable."

_You've already made that one. _

"So what's the real question?"

_Whether you forget or you do something. _

"What can I do? You said it yourself, what's happened has happened."

_You can make sure that it never happens again. _

"Revenge," said Albus. "I like that idea."

_I was thinking more like bringing the murderer to justice, but suit yourself. _

"Hey, I can't be perfect all the time." Tom was silent for a long time.

_Death has changed you. _he said at last.

"Yes, it has," said Albus.

_I'm not sure I like this change. _

"There are some people who have to be killed. Scorpius's murderer is one of them."

_I have to agree but... Albs, just be careful. You were given a second chance, don't waste it. _

"I'm not! I'm making sure nobody else gets killed."

_I know but... you need a line. _

"This isn't so bad, Tom. I haven't reached that line yet."

_Yeah, _Tom muttered, _just like last time._

**_Dun dun da dun! See you guys next week and please review!_**


	23. Chapter 23:Elementary,My Dear Longbottom

**_Hey! Er... I really don't have anything to say in this author's note. Thanks to those who reviewed, you are what makes me keep going on with this monster. Anyways, here goes..._**

"Frank, we need a list of suspects," Albus said a few days later. His friend looked up from a book and groaned.

"What now?" he said.

"I'm going to find out who killed Scorpius," said Albus, "and you're going to help me."

"Can't we just leave this be, Al?" Frank said. "We have enough on our plate, what with rebirth, a Dark Lord, and final exams coming up."

"Final exams?" Albus echoed. Frank sighed.

"Don't tell me that you've forgotten about them! We'll need to pass them to get to second year; being reborn doesn't change that."

"Why do you even need to study?" said Alubs. "I mean, you already have your memories, don't you?"

"Are you kidding? I could've forgotten or overlooked the answer to a question, and then-"

"Frank, shut up!" Albus snapped. "You sound like my Aunt Hermione." Frank snorted.

"That's a bad thing?" he said. "Oh, speaking of your aunt, she's been pelting Rose with owls so much I've started singing 'It's Raining Owls' just to annoy her."

"Come on, Frank, you'll just make her crankier."

"Aw, she'll get over it when she stops being sore over you getting into Slytherin."

"Like that'll happen," Albus grumbled. "She's a hardcore Gryffindor, just like Uncle Ron. I don't think he even knows I'm in Slytherin, my father's scared to tell him about it. If I was his son I'd be dead for sure."

"How is the rest of your family taking the news?"

"Lils doesn't care, of course. My mum seems fine with it. James thinks I'm crazy or something-"

_I called him the Sarcastic Shrink. _

"-and my father, well, he just needs some time to get used to the idea."

"I don't see why. He named you after me, didn't he?"

_Well, he also named him after Saint Dumbles the Jerkwad, so that should show you how good Daddy dearest's judgement is. _

"Not applacible," said Albus.

"You two are weird, you know that?" Frank said.

_Oh my Merlin, call the _Prophet_. The dead guy with a voice in his head is weird. _Albus banged the table in frustration.

"Guys, we're wasting our time," he said. "We _need _to get Scorpius's murderer."

"And how do you propose we do that?" said Frank coldly. "Auror's have been all over everything. They have no clue who killed him, and quite frankly nobody but us cares."

"Why not? He was murdered!"

"He's a Slytherin and a Malfoy to boot!" said Frank. "Were you born in a cave? The anti-Slytherin bias runs deeper than a couple of first years being snobs."

"My father says that House doesn't matter."

"He isn't everybody, and you admitted that he's having trouble accepting you're a Slytherin. Prejudice trumps logic every time, even for living legends."

"But he said-"

"Do you think words can change how people think? Do you think Rose is the only person who hates Slytherins? If she, or anyone else for that matter, were to start exterminating your House, most of the Wizarding World would support them. Even _I'm _slightly prejudiced, and I'm _me. _Trust me, Al, you do _not _want to get mixed up in this."

"Scorpius would want us to bring his killer to justice."

"He would also want you to stay alive. Albus, you're my best mate, and I'm telling you to not kill yourself over this."

_Alby, he may be right. _

"You were the one who suggested this!"

_I didn't realize how prevalent the anti-Slytherin prejudice is here. We have to get the Dark Lord, so we really can't afford to get killed beforehand. Albs, admit it, its the hexed Gobstone. _

"Quit it, Tom..." Albus trailed off, stunned. "Gobstones! That's it!" he cried triumphantly.

"What's it?" said Frank.

"The murderer must be a member of the Gobstones Club," said Albus.

_How'd you get that one, Sherlock? _

"He was killed right down the hall from where the club was meeting. A person who wasn't into Gobstones would look suspicious hanging around there; Lee would've mentioned it to me."

"Great, that narrows it down to only, like, a hundred people," said Frank sarcastically.

"You're forgetting how late Scorpius was running. It takes about twenty minutes to get to the old Transfiguration classroom, even if you run."

"So the murderer would've been late or cutting it pretty fine, big deal," Frank said. "Not everyone's as obsessive about it as Scorpius is- was, I mean."

"At least its a place to start," said Albus. "That's more than we have for that precious Dark Lord of yours." Frank glored at Albus.

"You're the one who thought_ Scorpius _was the Dark Lord," he said.

"Its not my fault! The thestral thing was misleading."

"And then it _did _end up being Scorpius," Frank pointed out.

_Ah, the strange, complicated process of finding a Dark Lord. _Frank rolled his eyes.

"Tom, what do you think about this? Pretty stupid, huh?"

_It'll be risky, but we have a lead. _

"Not you too!" Frank said.

_Yes, me too. Think about it, Frankie. Whoever this murderer is, he's defiantly dangerous, and he might even be working for the new Dark Lord. _

"A Dark Lord killing Slytherins? What the Merlin?"

"Frank, we don't know who this guy is, his motivations, anything. He could be a troll for all we know!"

"Yeah, but a Slytherin-killing evil guy?" said Frank.

"Sure," Albus said, "you said so yourself, Slytherin prejudice runs deep. It would be easy to justify."

"Yeah, but Gryffindors are brave, Ravenclaws are smart, and Hufflepuffs are loyal. I'm not seeing anything bad here. Slytherins, on the other hand..."

"Frank, on the outside it may seem obvious, but just think for a moment. It all depends. What good is loyalty if you're loyal to evil? Or brains if you use them to destroy stuff? Even bravery can be twisted. Just like being cunning and ambitious doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. Your abilities won't be worth a flobberworm if you use them the wrong way."

_I'm with Alby on this one, Frankie. Catching a murderer can't hurt anything. _

"Except ourselves," Frank muttered.

_You're a Gryffindor, Frankie. Aren't you supposed to be the brave one? _

"There's a difference between bravery and stupidity. Tom, are you even considering what could happen to Albus?"

_Are you even considering what could happen otherwise? _

"We need him to hep us beat the new Dark Lord!"

_If the murderer stays loose, he might attack Albus next. _

"We'll deal with him when and if we have to."

_By then it might be too late! _

"You want to stick your neck out and wait to be killed?"

_No, that's what you're suggesting. _Frank snorted.

"I want us all to keep our heads down and move on," he said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Keeping his head down didn't work for Scorpius," Albus said quietly.

"There's no reason-"

"There's every reason!" Albus yelled. "This- this murderer picked Scorpius out at random. Who says I can't be next? Or you? You're a 'traitor', remember?"

"We'll just make it more likely-"

"We might make him target us, or we might prevent _anyone_ from dieing again. Would you pass that up?_"_

_I have bunny rabbits! _

"What?" said both boys at the same time.

_You know, cute little bunny rabbits. The kind Lordie Voldie loves. _

"Off topic, Tom," said Albus, then he turned to Frank. "Would you pass that up?" Frank closed his eyes, brow furrowed. He was trying, as Dumbledore had once said, to choose between what was right and what was easy. Or, in this case, what was right and what was safe. Finally he shrugged.

"Feel free to chase the guy, Al," Frank said, "but I won't let you drag me down with you. You're on your own this time, mate."

"Fine... whatever," said Albus, "I don't need your help anyways." He was unwilling to let Frank see how much those words hurt him. "I'll see you around, I guess."

"I guess," said Frank. Then he walked away from his Slytherin friend.

"So its just you and me now, Tom," Albus said, staring after Frank.

_Yep. Now let's go interrogate some hardcore Gobstones players. _

"Lee!" Albus yelled. "Wait up, Lee!"

"What do you want now, Potter?" Lee asked, his eyes darting around fearfully.

"You can call me Albus, you know," Albus said.

"If that's what you want," said Lee, then grudgedly, "You can call me Amos, I guess."

_Ohh, cookies! Now I'm hungry! _Albus ignored Tom.

"How about Malfoy's murder, eh?" he said. "Must be creepy, knowing how close you were to the killer." Amos shuddered.

"I don't even like thinking about it," he said. "It's just plain scary, you know."

"Yeah," said Albus, "like how nobody noticed anything wrong then, BAM! he's dead." Amos just shuddered again.

"Can't we talk about something else, Albus? It doesn't feel safe, saying stuff like this. Feels like _I'm _going to be next."

"So you think there'll be a next?"

"I don't know what to think," Amos said. "Mostly I try not to think at all."

"Maybe we can catch the murderer before he kills anymore people." Amos's mouth dropped open in astonishment that anyone could even think something so stupid.

"Albus, do you want to be next?" he said.

"No, I want to make sure there is no next."

"You're crazy!"

"I'm trying to figure out what's going on."

"You should let this go away! We all should!"

"That's just the problem," Albus said. "I don't think this will just go away. This murderer will just keep on murdering and we'll all be too paralyzed by fear to stop him."

"Paralyzed is better than dead," Amos shot back.

"Dead is what we'll all be if we don't do something!" said Albus. "Amos, I'm not asking you to join me. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"It all depends on what that question is."

"Were there any non-Slytherins late for Gobstones Club that day?"

"Yeah," said Amos cautiously, "a couple."

"Who were they?" Albus hissed, grabbing Amos's wrist as the other boy began to leave.

"You said only one question!" Amos protested, trying to pull away.

"Amos," said Albus, "this is the last question, I promise, but also the most important one. I believe that your answer may bring me one step closer to finder the murderer."

"I shouldn't-"

"You must!" Amos opened and closed his mouth a few times, then he swallowed his fear.

"Louis Parkinson, a Ravenclaw," he said, "Walter Richerds, a Hufflepuff; Mark Ross, a Gryffindor; Nina Kilik, another Hufflepuff; Rose Weasley, another Gryffindor." Albus nodded and looked up, quickly glancing around. His heart jumped to his throat as he met the glaring eyes of Rose Weasley. She had heard every word. Albus looked back toward Amos, terrified.

"Amos," he said, his voice shaking, "what day of the week is it?"

"Friday, I think but why-" Albus grabbed Amos's arm and began to drag him toward the Slytherin common room. When they got there Albus let go of the confused and frightened boy.

"Whatever you do, _do not leave_," he ordered before racing back into the corridor, slamming to door behind him.

**_Well, there you have it. _****_Elementary, My Dear Longbottom_****_. See you guys next week, and please review!_**


	24. Chapter 24: Interview with a Murderer

_**Wow, only a few more chapters to go. Thank all of you guys for sticking with me through this. The last chapter will be up in maybe two weeks unless something happens. Anyways, here's "Interview With a Murderer".**_

Albus closed the dark slab of granite that served as the door to his common room. He quickly glanced from one end of the hall to the other, positive that Rose was somewhere nearby. Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of her face as she pulled it out of view.

Albus let out a wordless bellow of rage, racing down the corridor and around the corner. Rose stood there, smiling a smile both smug and triumphant.

"Well, well. Albus Potter," she said. "What would you be doing here."

"I should like to ask you the same question; I'm sure your answer would be quite... interesting."

"I know what you suspect, Potter, and you have no evidence whatsoever."

"So you admit that you're the murderer."

"Did I say that?" Rose said, eyes wide in a sick mockery of innocence. Albus's blood began to boil.

"We both know that you're guilty, Rose," he growled.

"It's your word against mine, Potter, and we also both know who they'll believe. It would look ridiculous: an evil Slytherin accusing a noble Gryffindor."

"Give me a confession!" Rose laughed slightly, eyes wild.

"Why should I? They don't care about you, they'll never care. Besides, as you said, we both know already, and having information repeated is_ so _tedious."

"Why did you kill Scorpius?" Albus yelled. "What did he ever do to you?"

"Why should I answer either of those questions?" said Rose, sticking out her bottom lip, teasing Albus, goading him onward. "It would take all the fun out of my little game."

"That's all killing is to you, a game?"

"Yes, no. It doesn't matter Alby," Rose said. "Nobody gives a damn about you, Slytherin. Whether this is a game or a plot, I've already won. You'll all die."

"Rose, how could you do this?" Albus cried. "What could you possibly gain from- from all this?"

"What could I gain?" Rose looked shocked, then she began to giggle. "You don't know? Is evil really so blind?"

"Apparently, yes," muttered Albus.

"I'm cleansing the school! And after Hogwarts, I will go on to destroy evil all over the world!"

"What is evil? How can we all be evil? Who are you to define it?"

"I don't define it, silly boy. The world has proclaimed you evil, I simply carry out their decree."

"What if everyone is wrong?"

"They cannot be wrong! Do you not see the beauty, the simplicity of evil and good? They are completely dependent on the opinions of society."

"So you're saying evil is just... just like fashion?"

_Yuck, I'd hate to see '80s evil. _

"Oh, yes, very amusing, for mere memories, that is."

_Wait, she can hear me? But I'm not- _

"Allowing me to? How quaint. You actually believe that your words are private. The spirit world is just one of the many avenues my friend has opened to me."

"Friend?" Albus croaked, his mouth suddenly very dry. Rose's eyes lost their focus and she smiled like someone in the midst of an especially pleasant dream.

"He's wonderful," she said softly. "He has no body, of course, but that doesn't matter. He's always there for me. We'll meet in my dreams and we'll talk for hours. He's so kind and sympathetic; he always understands me." Albus was getting a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Rose, he might be dangerous," Albus said.

"Don't be silly," snapped Rose. "He was the one I first told my plans to. He's helped me from day one."

_Wow, and that_'_s not dangerous at all. Now lets go sing Kumbaya while genocidal-ly mowing down kids based on stereotypical behavior. _

"Tom, you're not helpingat all," Albus said. "Rose, who is this friend of yours?"

"He doesn't have a name," she said. "Why should he have a name? He is greater than our words can describe."

"He's insane; he's making you insane."

"What do you know, Slytherin scum? He is my best friend, my only. Together we will rid the world of evil."

_Albus, she's beyond reason- _

"Beyond reason! I have been _shown _reason! My friend knows the future, he told me how I must cleanse the world or have us all perish. You are dangerous!"

"We all are. You, me, everyone else. We all have the capacity to do evil, so the capacity in itself doesn't matter. Its what you choose to do that matters most." Albus had no idea where his words were coming from. He only knew that he had to convince Rose to give up her deranged vendetta.

"You wish to sway me with words? You're just so naive, Potter, to think fate can be held back by such a flimsy thing."

"I don't believe in fate, I believe in choices."

"Is there a difference? Fate makes our choices for us beforehand. We're all just along for the ride."

"Rose, I didn't come here for a philosophical debate. I came here to prevent more deaths."

"Its too late! I have thousands who will listen to me when I say my piece, you have only the dregs of society. The winner was decided before either of us were born." Rose laughed again, drunk with her inevitable victory, while Albus felt what hope he had left flicker feebly then die.

"Rose, please, come back," he begged.

"To what? Who I was before? That Rose is just a shadow at the edge of my mind. I am the new Rose, the Cleanser, not that weak, naive fool."

"What will you do next?" Albus asked helplessly.

"Kill the poor boys you brought into this. Lee, Longbottom, and Adams, too, I suppose. It wouldn't do to become predictable."

"Amos and Adams have nothing to do with any of this."

"You made them my targets, Alby. You are a very interesting boy, so I have made you my pet project. By the time this is over you will be broken, your friends will be dead, and you will know it was all your fault." Rose didn't know how deep that cut Albus, because she was right, though for a different reason than she thought.

Albus raced through the crowded hallways, calling out Frank's name. Nearly panicked, he burst into the library.

"Frank!" he yelled, spotting his friend. Frank looked up from the book he was reading.

"Albus, what is it?" he said, taking in his friend's fearful eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Frank, you have to get somewhere safe _now_," Albus said without preamble.

"Albus, what is this about?"

"I know who the murderer is, why she's murdering Slytherins, and who her next targets are. You have to get somewhere safe."

"I'm her next target, aren't I?" Albus nodded. "Why? I'm not a Slytherin."

"You're too close to me, you know too much. Please don't argue with me right now, Frank. I have one more person to warn."

"Albus, _who is the murderer_?"

"I can't tell you."

"You can trust me. I'll never tell."

"You don't understand," said Albus. "It's not a matter of trust. If I tell you, she'll find out and kill you. She's already after you, don't make it worse for yourself."

"Albus, I don't care-"

"She's in contact with the new Dark Lord, Frank! After the danger is past, I'll tell you everything, I promise."

"Al-"

_You should listen to Albs, Frankie. _said Tom, deadly serious for once.

"But-"

"We don't have time, Frank. Go to the Slytherin common room, she doesn't know the password, thank Merlin. Call for Kreacher if you or Amos need anything, but whatever happens do not leave. I'll talk to you by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

"Albus, you shouldn't do this alone. Let me come with you."

"You were the one who wanted to just let this blow over," Albus hissed. "You made your choice already. Even if you hadn't I wouldn't let you come. This is my battle."

"Look, I made a mistake, but I was scared. Now you're saying I can't come, no matter what. Why?"

"I have to stop her, Frank."

"Why you, of all people?"

"Because this is all my fault!" Albus yelled. "You don't get it, do you? I created this problem!"

"It was her choice to become a murderer."

"But I was the cause of that choice! Through my- my other life, I created the anti- Slytherin bias that is here to this day. If I never existed, she would never have been twisted!" Frank was shaking.

"Albus, don't do this. You're the hope for the future, you're my best mate. Don't kill yourself, please."

"I _have _to," Albus said. "I may not have my memories, but I know what I did. This is my fault."

"Albus..." Frank trailed off helplessly. Albus placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Go to the Slytherin common room. Tell Amos everything."

"But-"

"Everything," said Albus forcefully. "He's accidentally been thrown into this mess, he'll have to know."

"It will put him in even more danger."

"He's already a target because of me. He deserves to know why." Frank reluctantly nodded.

"Consider it done," he said. "Anything else I need to know?"

"A Slytherin prefect, Douglas Adams, will hopefully be joining you guys. Fill him in too. And," Albus hesitated, "when I give the word, tell my brother everything as tactfully as possible, and make sure he doesn't tell my father."

"Why should James know?" Frank asked as he began to walk toward the library doors.

"We'll need all the allies we can get," said Albus. "As you once said, prejudice trumps logic every time, and Rose is running on tons of it." Frank turned around.

"Wait," he said, "are you talking about _Rose Weasley-_"

"Go!" Albus said, and Frank bolted, the library doors swinging shut just in time to block a jet of green sparks that had been shot after him. Albus spun around, then his eyes narrowed.

"Hello, Rose," he said coldly.

"You'll pay for that, Potter," his cousin hissed.

"Anytime," said Albus. "Just say the word and I'll take you, one on one." Rose laughed.

"I heard it all, little Slytherin. Do you really think you can protect your friends?"

"You can't get into our common room, Rose."

"Oh, but what about those who aren't there yet?" Albus felt fear shoot through him. "Yes, I've already taken care of Douglas Adams. An amusing boy, he actually begged me to let him go. Cowardly scum."

"I'll take you on tonight," Albus growled, full of rage. "It'll be easy, like squashing a bug." Rose just laughed again, and the hairs of Albus's neck stood on end.

"You really think you can beat _me_?" she said. "I am the one destined to cleanse the world of evil, you are just a poor little school boy who refuses to meld because of some misguided morals." Albus's throat felt quite dry.

"How do you-"

"Know so much? I know all, Potter. You have no hope of beating me."

"I have no choice," Albus said. "You have to stop this, Rose."

"Do I? Trophy Room. Midnight. Don't be late." Rose smiled a vampire smile. "This will be very, very fun."

_Oh, Merlin's bowtie. _Tom groaned. Albus had to agree.

_**Well, there you are. Next chapter is the actual battle. It should be up next week and the last chapter a week after that. Tootles! **_


	25. Chapter 25: First Kiss

First Kiss

Albus didn't go back to the Slytherin common room that night, where he would be bombarded with Amos's questions. Instead he roamed the halls of the school, half-hoping to get caught by Filch or another teacher. Anything would be better than wandering aimlessly, waiting for his death. For Albus had no illusions about how the fight would go. Until he melded he had no chance against his more talented cousin, and he could never meld. He could only hope that he could talk Rose around, or at least take her down with him.

The whole castle seemed to hold its breath. As the hours wore on the halls became deserted, giving the whole place the feel of a giant tomb. Albus's footsteps sounded loud and echoed through the corridors. Albus's watch seemed to run unnaturally slow. At about 10:30 he gave up and stopped. He would wait here until a teacher came by and ordered him to bed.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't walk calmly to his death, as he knew he should. The suffocating weight of his past life seemed to press on him, subtly twisting him into something closer to Voldemort. His fear of death was returning, and Albus knew that all he had to do was walk away and go to sleep. He stood there for a long while, still as a statue, his subconscious fighting between his two selves.

Then, slowly but deliberately, Albus took a step forward, then another. At first his steps were hesitant, then he gained momentum. Breaking away from the last strands of his fear, Albus surged forward toward the Trophy Room.

Albus Potter entered the Trophy Room and closed the door behind him. Turning around, he saw a shark patronus swimming through the air around his cousin. An unnatural chill perminated Albus's soul. It seemed hopeless.

"Hello, Rose," he said as calmly as he could.

"I did not come here to talk, Potter, I came here to fight," said Rose.

"What's happened to you?" Albus said. "Rose, I knew you before, how could you have fallen so far?"

"I have not fallen," Rose said. "For years I have waited, biding my time. Now I will rise!"

"You were my cousin, my _friend_," said Albus quietly. "Who did this to you?" Rose laughed.

"You poor, poor little boy. I wasn't tricked into this. Do you really think that?"

"Who do you work for, Rose?"

"I work for no one."

"You work for the new Dark Lord, I know it, now_ who is he_?"

"He? How sexist, Alby. You wish for the truth? Here. I am the new Dark Lady, the most powerful witch _ever_!" Albus felt his blood run cold.

"No," he said. "You can't be."

"But I am," said Rose, smiling maniacly. "I will destroy evil, and destroy you, you little death."

"No..." Albus moaned. "Rose, you're good, I know you're good."

"I _am _good!" she shrieked. "You shouldn't have come here, Potter. I will destroy your evil, totally and fully."

"Then kill me!" said Albus. "Kill me and be done with it. Can you do that, Rose? We grew up together, we were friends. Could you kill your friend?"

"Oh I never said I would _kill _you," said Rose. "Death would be too good for your special type of scum."

"Then what? What could be worse than death?"

"This," said Rose, smiling and giving some sort of hand signal. Out of the darkness came two dementors. Albus drew his wand, but before he knew it Rose had disarmed him. He dove toward where his wand had fallen, but a net emerged from Rose's wand with a crack and wrapped around Albus, his wand still out of reach. Struggling futilily, Albus glared up at Rose.

"Why?" he asked. Rose gave him one pityless look then turned away.

"Its my destiny to cleanse the world, Albus. You of all people should understand." She gestured at Albus. "Dinner, my pets," she said to the dementors, then, still smiling, she ran out to door. Albus heard the lock click loudly. The dementors glided silently towards him, lying bound and helpless on the floor.

Far away, in the great city of London, Harry Potter's scar burned.

Albus began to squirm toward his wand, trying to ignore the unnatural chill that crept over him as the dementors began to close in. Picking his wand up best he could, Albus pointed it at the ropes that bound him.

"Diffindo!" he shouted, and a blast of sparks cut through the rope. Albus untangled himself then turned toward the dementors. Watching the two wrieths carefully, he began to walk backwards to where he though the door was. The dementors seemed to sense his thoughts, and came more quickly towards him, one straight at him and one slightly from his left. Albus retreated faster, until he felt his back hit a wall. It was only then that he realized his mistake. THe dementors had been herding him the entire time.

"Ginny," said Harry urgently, shaking his wife awake.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked, still half asleep.

"Voldemort's back," said Harry breathlessly. "My scar hurt, he's back, and, oh, Ginny, he's got Albus!"

"What are you going to do?" Ginny said, suddenly wide awake. Harry was already pulling on a shirt.

"They're at Hogwarts," he said. "I can get there by Floo Powder."

Albus knew he had no choice but to fight. Tightening his grip on his wand an gathering his courage, Albus turned to face the dementors.

"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled, then felt a fresh wave of dispair crash down on him.

_You abandoned her! You abandoned _me_! _Albus tried to clear his mind, to think or something happy.

_No, Tom, _said the voice of Dumbledore, _I don't believe you're ready. _Albus was shaking.

"E-expecto Patronum," he said, but all the happy memories he had were laced with bitterness. Frank...

_Please, my Lord, spare the mother! Kill the father and the son, but please not Lily! _Albus's eyes were wet, his whole body was as cold as death. Even summoning memories of Lily only brought pain and guilt...

_Not Harry, please not Harry! Please, I beg you, please!_

_I have no son._

_You'll use any means to achieve your ends! You're dangerous! _

"Expecto... Expecto..." Albus whispered as the dementors glided forward, sensing victory.

As Harry Potter appeared in the Headmistress's office McGonagall woke from where she had fallen asleep doing paperwork.

"Mr. Potter, what-" she shrieked, but Harry had already left for the room whe was sure Voldemort was in... with his son.

_You mean these... these things I can do, its magic?_

_Harry Potter. The Boy who Lived._

_He no live here! He no live here! I know him not! _Albus moaned, closing his eyes against the green light. So much green light, so much death, and alll of it as his fault.

_Goodbye, old fool. Thanks to you I'm one step closer to victory._

_Please, my Lord, please!_

_Dinner, Nagini..._

_Albus, please, don't give up now! _Albus started. It was Tom. But, no, not even Tom could help him now.

_Professor, what can you tell me about... Horcruxes?_

_But, Professor Dippet, you can't close Hogwarts!_

_Lily, take Harry and go, I'll hold him off! _Albus shrank against the wall. He couldn't hold it off, the memories were threatening to overwhelm him. Everything that had once brought him pleasure seemed sick and twisted now.

_Albus, let me help! _Tom said. _Please, we have to meld now! _

"No," said Albus desperately, grasping at the last vestidges of his humanity. The dementors were less than a foot from him now.

_This is what I was meant to do! I told you that we were only putting off the invitable! _

"I'm not going to kill you"

_And I'm not going to let you be kissed. Albs, this is the only way._

"I can't-"

_You've got to! Alby, Albs, kid, please! _The memories seemed to press on Albus's whole mind, flexing beneath the seal that held them back and then... It was a great outpouring of the memories, but at the same time something was ripped away from Albus's soul, some connection was severed forever. The pain was absolute, but not because of the memories that made the touch of the dementors a thousand times worse. It was because of the undeniable reality that Albus had failed, that he was again a murderer, that Tom was dead. It was unbearable.

Albus began to fall to his knees, but a scaley, scabbed hand grabbed his chin. Albus was lifted off the ground and, blearily, he could see the dementor's shrouded face only a few inches from his own. The dementor lifed its other hand and began to carress first Albus's face, then his neck, with its cold, dead fingers. Each touch sapped a little more of Albus's strength and will to live.

After all, what was he? He was evil, a murderer. He had never loved until his second life, his second chance that he didn't deserve. There were others, good people whom he had killed. They would have been better to send.

If dementors could smile, than the one that held Albus would have. As it was, the dementor simbly dragged Albus up, closer and closer, until their faces were mere centemeters apart. Then the dementor clamped its mouth over Albus's and breathed in deeply.

It was stimulously the most horrible and the most pleasent expreriance. To have all your sorrowas, fears, and regrets simply sucked out of you seemed at that moment the perfect freedom. Albus, broken as he was by the melding and the death of Tom, wanted nothing more than to rest, to be at peace. But with this absolute freedom come the realazation that he would lose everything that made him Albus Potter.

Albus had lost everything. He had always known it would happen. Darkness ate away at his vision and his soul was slipping away. Albus felt himself stop breathing, his heart stop beating. Now he'd be able to see Scorpius again, and Adams, and tell them how very sorry he was. Albus's wand clattered to the ground from nerveless fingers. Then, as the last strands of his souul were breaking away from his body, a light appeared in the darkness, another candle to relight his, accompanied by the two words that meant salvation.

"Expecto Patronum!"


	26. Chapter 26: Two Lights

**_Well, here it is. The last chapter of the first book. I'm actually a bit sad to reach the end of this. Thanks to hp-fanfic-fan101, imperial queen,_** **_ashwingsmokefeather, kittyhawk09, and any other people who reviewed, favorited, and/or followed. Anyways, here's _****_Two Lights_****_._**

"Albus? _Albus!_" The words were far away, faint in Albus's ears. Someone knelt beside him, and strong arms picked him up and cradled him. If Albus had any strength left he would have cried out. Each point where his near-dead body met the other's felt as though it was touching flames.

"No, _no! _Please don't be dead, please don't die." The other grasped Albus's wrist, then the side of his neck, drenching both in the fire. The burning lingered after the other touched the boy. Albus wanted to huddle closer, but he couldn't.

"Please," the other was sobbing, "please..." A drop of fire landed on Albus's cheek, scurrying down his cheekbone to the base of his neck. Another drop landed dear the child's shoulder, another on his throat, another directly on his heart. That last drop soaked through the thin material of his school robes, and as it touched Albus's skin the most miraculous and wonderful thing happened.

Albus's heart began to beat again. The boy took one shallow, shakey breath, then another. His eyelids fluttered, then the dark eyes opened. Harry Potter, his father, his _savior_, was looking down at him, a look of awe on his worry-worn face.

"Albus," he whispered, his voice husky. Albus shivered weakly.

"Cold," he whimpered. His father nodded and held him closer.

"I thought I'd lost you," the older man said quietly, "but it's okay now, Albus. I've got you."

"Dad," said Albus.

"Shh, don't talk. Save your strength." Albus felt his father shift as though to put Albus back onto the floor. Albus grasped his father's sleeve.

"Don't go," he implored weakly.

"We have to get you to the Hospital wing, Albus. Those dementors almost killed you."

"No!" said Albus, panicking. "Stay!"

"Albus," said his father gently, but firmly. "I can't move you now. It might make things worse. I'm just going to get Madam Pomfrey, I'll be back very soon." Albus clung to his father pathetically.

"Dad, don't leave me," he said. "I'm scared." His father sighed, then carefully picked Albus up. Whimpering at the fire that seemed to sear his skin, Albus at the same time huddled closer.

"Shh, it's alright, its alright," his father murmured. "I won't let them hurt you ever again, I promise."

"Dad, there's a new Dark Wizard," Albus said weakly.

"Don't worry about a thing, Albus. I'll catch him, don't worry."

"You don't understand-"

"Calm, calm. I understand, Albus. I'm not going to fail again, I promise. I'll keep you safe." Tears stung Albus's eyes.

"Dad," he choked out, but then he was sobbing into his father's shirt. Albus's father sat on a step and rocked Albus.

"Shh, Albus, it's alright," he said, but Albus knew that wasn't true. Scorpius was dead, Adams was dead, Tom had ceased to exist. His cousin had tried to kill him, and she would now have to be killed. Nothing was alright, nothing would ever be alright again.

"Dad, I can't-"

"Don't cry, Albus, don't cry. You're safe now."

"No, no I'm not," said Albus, before sobbing even harder.

"I'll catch the Dark Lord who did this to you, we'll all be fine."

"It can't erase this. I can't be me anymore, not like this."

"You'll be fine. I won't let this touch you."

"It already has, Dad. It killed the old Albus." Albus looked up to see his father crying

The next thing Albus knew was that he was in the hospital wing, staring at the ceiling, shivering both from the cold that permeated his soul and the images of his dreams. He weakly turned his head sideways to see that his father had fallen asleep and was now lying across Albus. Albus shifted slightly and his father was instantly alert.

"What is it, Al?" he said, brushing Albus's hair back from the boy's face.

"I'm still cold," Albus whispered. His father nodded sadly.

"You will be for a while. The dementors-" Albus's father stopped, unable to continue. He stroked Albus's cheek gently. "I am the worst father," he said at last.

"Dad-" Albus began. His father cut him off.

"What kind of a father am I?" he said, speaking more to himself than to Albus. "I can't protect you from a couple of dementors, how can I keep everyone safe from Voldemort?" Albus cringed.

"V-Voldemort?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing.

"Yes, Albus," his father said. "He's back. Didn't you see him?"

"I-I didn't notice," Albus lied. "It all happened so fast." Albus's father nodded. He brushed his son's hair aside with his hand, tears again in his eyes.

"He did this," Albus's father said quietly, obviously not knowing that Albus could hear him. "I don't know why he did, but he did this. I have to make sure he doesn't hurt my family again."

"Dad..." said Albus, but he trailed off, unable to bring himself to tell his father the truth. "Dad," he finally said, "it wasn't Voldemort."

"What? But my scar hurt again, that's how I knew-"

"Voldemort didn't attack me, Dad," Albus said, which was true.

"Then who did this to you?" Albus's father was suddenly fierce and angry. "Who could be so evil?"

"I don't know," Albus lied again. "It all happened so fast." His father looked frusterated for a moment, then resumed his act of kindness and understanding.

"Of course it did," he said softly. There was a slightly awkward pause, as neither father nor son knew what to say. Luckinly Albus was saved by Frank and Amos bursting into the hospital wing.

"Boys, this patient needs rest," said Madam Pomfrey. "Only two visitors at a time, if you please." Amos blushed.

"I- I'll just wait outside," he said, but Albus shook his head.

"No, stay," he said. "Dad, could you...?" His father looked surprised but nodded reluctently and, after giving Albus's hand a squeeze, left the hospital wing. After waiting a few moments, Albus gave Frank and Amos a nod.

"What went on in there?" Frank asked.

"Are you really Voldemort?" said Amos.

"I am really Voldemort," said Albus, slightly amused. "A lot went on back there."

"Tell us," Frank said. Albus closed his eyes.

_Please, not Harry! Please, I'm begging you!_

_I have no son._

_Tell the truth!_

"I can't tell you everything," he said, pushing the memories down. "Maybe someday I'll be able to, but right now... I'm too close to it. But there are some things you have to know. Rose Weasley's the new Dark Lord, or Lady as the case may be-"

"But she's a Gryffindor!" said Amos, eyes wide.

"She's been twisted by someone," said Albus bitterly. "She's always been pretty anti-Slytherin, but this... Well, she wants to 'cleanse' the world of evil. Ironically, she's become Dark in the process."

"But you said she's been twisted," said Frank. "Who's been twisting her?"

"I don't know," Albus said. "She kept talking about this friend who's always supported her."

"So now we have to find her friend," said Frank. "Tom will just _love _that." Albus felt like he'd been stabbed in the stomach. "Is everything alright?" Albus turned away from Frank.

"I- I melded," he said. "Tom's dead." Frank's mouth fell open.

"No," he whispered.

"I- I didn't want to, but he said it was fate. He w- wanted to die."

"That suicidal little son of a Death Eater," Frank muttered, wiping away tears in his eyes.

"Who's Tom?" Amos asked. Albus turned toward the other Slytherin.

"The best and greatest man I ever knew," he said. All three were silent for a long time.

"What do we do now?" Frank asked at last.

"We rest," said Albus. "We rest and recover and build up our strength. And when the time comes we'll face Rose head-on." He smiled. "Together."

_**And I'm done! Thank you all once again for your incredable support and encouragement. I'll try to get the prolouge of book two up in a couple of days. TTFN! Ta ta for now!**_


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